Bill  Atkins  stood  erect 


LAHOMA 


BY 

JOHN  BRECKENRIDGE  ELLIS 


AUTHOR  OF 

FRAN,  ETC, 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

W.  B.  KING 


NEW  YORK 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT  1913 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 


TO 

MY  MOTHER 

IN  MEMORY  OF 

OUR  HAPPY  OKLAHOMA 

DAYS 


912738 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  THE  TOUCH  OF  A  CHILD    ......  1 

II  BRICK  MAKES  A  MOVE       ......  11 

III  FLIGHT -  17 

IV  AN  UNWONTED  PRAYER     ...  28 
V  A  NEW  ROBINSON  CRUSOE 34 

VI  A  MYSTERIOUS  GUEST      ....        .        .46 

VII  RED  FEATHER    .                                ....  66 

VIII   GETTING  CIVILIZED 85 

IX  A  YOUHG  MAN'S  FANCY   ......  109 

X  THE  FLAG  OF  TRUCE 124 

XI  THE  HALF-OPENED  BUD 134 

XII  THE  BIG  WORLD 157 

XIII  A  SURE-ENOUGH  MAN 173 

XIV  WRITING  HOME 192 

XV  THE  DAY  OF  FENCES 209 

XVI  THE  ONYX  PIN                   223 

XVII  BRICK  MAKES  A  STAND 238 

XVIII  LIFI  ON  ONE  CONDITION 247 

XIX  LIKE  LOVERS 262 

XX  TOGETHER 274 

XXI  THE  NORTHER 284 

XXII  JOURNEY' S£ND         ........  296 

XXIII  FACING  THE  MOB       .                 310 

XXIV  MINE  ENEMY 322 

XXV  GLEDWARE'S  POSSESSIONS  .        .        »        .        .        .337 

XXVI  JUST  A  HABIT 346 


LAHOMA        H 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  TOUCH  OF  A   CHILD 

44T  HAVE  given  my  word  of  honor  —  my  sacred 

JL  oath  —  not  to  betray  what  I  have  discovered 
here." 

At  these  words  from  the  prisoner,  a  shout  arose 
in  which  oaths  and  mocking  laughter  mingled  like 
the  growling  and  snapping  of  hunger-maddened 
wolves. 

"Then  if  I  must  die,"  Gledware  cried,  his  voice, 
in  its  shrill  excitement,  dominating  the  ferocious  in- 
sults of  the  ruffians,  "don't  kill  the  child  —  you  see 
she  is  asleep  —  and  she's  so  young  —  only  five. 
Even  if  she  were  awake,  she  wouldn't  know  how  to 
tell  about  this  cabin.  For  God's  sake,  don't  kill 
the  little  girl!" 

Since  the  seizure  of  Gledware,  the  child  had  been 
lying  on  the  rude  table  in  the  midst  of  a  greasy 
pack  of  cards  —  cards  that  had  been  thrown 
down  at  the  sound  of  his  galloping  horse.  The 
table  supported,  also,  much  of  the  booty  captured 


2,  LAHOMA 

from  the  wagon-train,  while  on  the  dirt  floor  be- 
s'cie  it  wtr^  prizes  of  the  freebooting  expedition, 
too  large  to  find  resting-place  on  the  boards.  Nor 
was  this  all.  Mingled  with  stolen  garments,  cans 
and  boxes  of  provisions,  purses  and  bags  of  gold, 
were  the  Indian  disguises  in  which  the  highwaymen 
from  No-Man's  Land  had  descended  on  the 
prairie-schooners  on  their  tedious  journey  from 
Abilene,  Kansas,  toward  the  Southwest. 

In  the  midst  of  this  confusion  of  disguises,  booty 
and  playing-cards,  surrounded  by  cruel  and  sensual 
faces,  the  child  slept  soundly,  her  lips  slightly  parted, 
her  cheeks  delicately  flushed,  her  face  eloquent  in 
its  appeal  of  helplessness,  innocence  and  beauty. 
One  of  the  band,  a  tall  broad-shouldered  man  of 
middle-age,  with  an  immense  quantity  oi  whiskers 
perhaps  worn  as  a  visible  sign  of  inward  wildness, 
was,  despite  his  hardened  nature,  moved  to  remon- 
strance. Under  cover  of  lurid  oaths  and  outrageous 
obscenity,  he  advanced  his  opinion  that  "  the  kid  " 
needn't  be  shot  just  because  her  father  was  a  sneak- 
ing spy. 

"Shut  up ! "  roared  a  tremendous  voice,  not 
directly  to  the  intercessor,  or  to  the  prisoner,  but 
to  all  present.  Evidently  it  was  a  voice  of  authority, 
for  comparative  silence  followed  the  command. 


THE  TOUCH  OF  A  CHILD  3 

The  speaker  stepped  forward,  thrust  his  fingers 
through  his  intensely  red  shock  of  hair,  and  con- 
tinued, with  one  leg  thrust  forward : 

"You  know  I  am  something  of  an  orator,  or  I 
guess  you  wouldn't  of  made  me  your  leader.  Now, 
as  long  as  I'm  your  leader,  I'm  going  to  lead ;  but, 
I  ain't  never  unreasonable,  and  when  talk  is  needed, 
I'm  copious  enough.  I  am  called  '  Red  Kimball,' 
and  my  brother  yonder,  he  is  knowed  as  '  Kansas 
Kimball.'  .What  else  is  knowed  of  us  is  this :  that 
we  wasn't  never  wont  to  turn  loose  a  spy  when  once 
ketched.  Here  is  a  man  who  says  he  is  Henry 
Gledware  —  though  God  knows  if  that's  so;  he 
comes  galloping  up  to  the  door  just  as  we  are  in 
the  midst  of  a  game.  I  stakes  all  my  share  of  the 
spoils  on  the  game,  and  Brick  Willock  is  in  a  fair 
way  to  win  it,  that  I  admit,  but  in  comes  this  here 
spy-" 

The  prisoner  in  a  frenzied  voice  disclaimed  any 
purpose  of  spying.  That  morning,  he  had  driven 
the  last  wagon  of  the  train,  containing  his  invalid 
wife  and  his  stepdaughter  —  for  the  child  lying  on 
the  table  was  his  wife's  daughter.  At  the  alarm 
that  the  first  wagon  had  been  attacked  by  Indians, 
he  had  turned  about  his  horses  and  driven  furiously 
over  the  prairie,  he  knew  not  whither.  All  that  day 


4  LAHOMA 

he  had  fled,  seeing  no  one,  hearing  no  pursuing 
horse-beat.  At  night  his  wife,  unable,  in  her  weak 
condition,  to  sustain  the  terrible  jolting,  had  ex- 
pired. Taking  nothing  from  the  wagon  but  his, 
saddle,  he  had  mounted  one  of  the  horses  with  the 
child  before  him,  and  had  continued  his  flight,  the 
terrific  wind  at  his  back.  Unaware  that  the  wind 
had  changed,  he  had  traversed  horseback  much  of 
the  distance  traveled  during  the  day,  and  at  about 
two  in  the  morning  —  that  is  to  say,  about  an  hour 
ago  —  seeing  a  light,  he  had  ridden  straight  to- 
ward it,  to  find  shelter  from  the  storm. 

The  prisoner  narrated  all  this  in  nervous  haste, 
though  he  had  already  given  every  particular,  time 
and  again.  His  form  as  well  as  his  voice  trembled 
with  undisguised  terror,  and  indeed,  the  red  and 
cruel  eyes  fastened  contemptuously  on  him  might 
have  caused  a  much  braver  man  than  Gledware  to 
shudder  visibly. 

'  Well,  pard,"  said  the  leader  of  the  band,  waiting 
until  he  had  finished,  "  you  can't  never  claim  that 
you  ain't  been  given  your  say,  for  I  do  admire  free 
speech.  I  want  to  address  you  reasonable,  and 
make  this  plain  and  simple,  as  only  a  man  that  has 
been  alleged  to  be  something  of  an  orator  can  ac- 
complish. My  men  and  me  has  had  our  conference, 


THE  TOUCH  OF  A  CHILD  5 

and  it's  decided  that  both  of  you  has  got  to  be  shot, 
and  immediate.  The  reasons  is  none  but  what  a 
sensible  man  must  admit,  and  such  I  take  you  to 
be.  I  am  sorry  this  has  happened,  and  so  is  my 
men,  and  we  wish  you  well.  It's  a  hard  saying, 
pard,  but  whatever  your  intentions,  a  spy  you  have 
proved.  For  what  do  you  find  on  busting  open  our 
door?  Here  we  sit  playing'  with  our  booty  for 
stakes,  and  our  Indian  togs  lying  all  about.  You 
couldn't  help  knowing  that  we  was  the  'Indians ' 
that  gutted  them  wagons  and  put  up  the  fight  that 
left  every  man  and  woman  dead  on  the  field  except 
that  there  last  wagon  you  are  telling  us  about. 
You  might  wish  you  didn't  know  the  same,  but  once 
knowed,  we  ain't  going  to  let  you  loose.  As  to 
that  wagon  you  claim  to  have  stole  away  from  under 
our  very  noses — " 

A  skeptical  laugh  burst  from  the  listeners. 

Gledware  eagerly  declared  that  if  he  had  the  re- 
motest idea  in  what  direction  it  had  been  left,  he 
would  be  glad  to  lead  them  to  the  spot.  He  could 
describe  it  and  its  contents  — 

"You  see,  pard,"  Red  Kimball  interposed,  "you 
are  everlasting  losing  sight  of  the  point.  This  here 
is  1880,  which  I  may  say  is  a  recent  date.  Time 
was  when  a  fellow  could  live  in  Cimarron,  and  come 


6  LAHOMA 

and  go  free  and  no  questions  asked  —  and  none  an- 
swered. But  civilization  is  a-pressing  us  hard,  and 
these  days  is  not  our  fathers'  days.  We  are  pretty 
independent  even  yet  in  old  Cimarron,  but  busy- 
bodies  has  got  together  trying  to  make  it  a  regular 
United  States  territory,  and  they  ain't  going  to  stand 
for  a  real  out-and-out  band  of  highwaymen  such 
as  used  to  levy  on  stage-coaches  and  wagon-trains 
without  exciting  no  more  remarks  than  the  buf- 
faloes. You  may  be  sorry  times  is  changed ;  so  am 
I;  but  if  times  is  fresh,  we  might  as  well  look  'em 
in  the  face.  Us  fellows  has  been  operating  for 
some  years,  but  whatever  we  do  is  blamed  on  the 
Indians.  That  there  is  a  secret  that  would  ruin 
our  business,  if  it  got  out.  To-morrow,  a  gang  of 
white  men  will  be  depredating  in  the  Washita 
country  to  get  revenge  for  to-day's  massacre,  and 
me  and  my  men  couldn't  join  in  the  fun  with  easy 
consciences  if  we  knowed  you  was  somewheres 
loose,  to  tell  your  story." 

Again  Gledware  protested  that  he  would  never 
betray  the  band. 

"  Oh,  cut  this  short,"  interposed  Kansas  Kimball, 
with  an  oath.  "  Daylight  will  catch  us  and  nothing 
done,  if  we  listen  to  that  white-livered  spy.  We 
don't  believe  in  that  wagon  he  talks  about,  and  as 


THE  TOUCH  OF  A  CHILD  7 

/j 

for  this  kid,  he  brought  her  along  just  to  save  his 
bacon." 

"No,  as  God  lives!"  cried  Gledware.  "Can't 
you  see  she  is  dead  for  sleep?  She  was  terrified 
out  of  her  wits  all  day,  and  I've  ridden  with  her  all 
night.  Don't  kill  her,  men — "  He  turned  impas- 
sioned eyes  on  the  leader.  "  Look  at  her  —  so 
young  —  so  unsuspecting  —  you  can't  have  the 
heart  to  murder  a  child  like  that  in  cold  blood." 

"  Right  you  are ! "  exclaimed  the  man  with  the 
ferocious  whiskers  —  he  who  had  been  spoken  of  as 
Brick  Willock.  "  You'll  have  to  go,  pard,  but  I'm 
against  killing  infants." 

The  leader  darted  an  angry  glance  at  the  man 
who,  but  for  the  untoward  arrival  of  Gledware, 
would  have  won  from  him  his  share  of  the  booty. 
But  his  voice  was  smooth  and  pleasant  as  he  re- 
sumed :  '  Yes,  pard,  the  kid  must  die.  We 
couldn't  do  nothing  with  her,  and  if  we  left  her  on 
some  door-step,  she's  sure  old  enough,  and  she 
looks  full  sharp  enough,  to  tell  sufficient  to  trammel 
us  good  and  plenty.  If  we  sets  her  loose  in  the 
prairie,  she'd  starve  to  death  if  not  found  —  and  if 
found,  it  would  settle  our  case.  And  as  Kansas 
says,  this  debate  must  close,  or  daylight  will  catch 


us." 


8  LAHOMA 

Brick  Willock,  with  terrible  oaths,  again  ex- 
pressed himself  as  strongly  opposed  to  this  decision. 

"Well,  Brick,"  said  Red,  with  a  sneer,  "do  you 
want  to  take  the  kid  and  raise  her,  yourself? 
We've  either  got  to  do  away  with  her,  or  keep  her 
hid.  Do  you  want  to  be  her  nurse,  and  keep  with 
her  in  some  cave  or  other  while  we  go  foraging  ?  " 

Willock  muttered  deep  in  his  throat,  while  his 
companions  laughed  disdainfully.  • 

"  We've  had  enough  of  this !  "  Red  declared,  his 
voice  suddenly  grown  hard  and  cold.  "  Kansas, 
take  the  prisoner;  Brick  Willock,  as  you're  so  fond 
of  the  kid,  you  can  carry  her."  He  opened  the 
door  and  a  rush  of  wind  extinguished  the  candle. 
There  was  silence  while  it  was  being  relighted. 
The  flickering  light,  reddening  to  a  steady  glow, 
revealed  no  mercy  on  the  scowling  countenances 
about  the  table,  and  no  shadow  of  presentiment  on 
that  of  the  still  unconscious  child. 

Red  went  outside  and  waited  till  his  brother  had 
drawn  forth  the  quivering  man,  and  Brick  Willock 
had  carried  out  the  girl.  Then  he  looked  back  into 
the  room.  "You  fellows  can  stay  in  here,"  he 
said'  authoritatively.  "  What  we've  got  to  do  ain't 
any  easier  with  a  lot  of  men  standing  about,  looking 


THE  TOUCH  OF,  A  CHILD  9 

The  man  who  had  relighted  the  candle,  and  who 
crouched  to  shield  it  with  a  hairy  hand  from  the 
gust,  nodded  approval.  His  friends  were  already 
gathering  together  the  cards  to  lose  in  the  excite- 
ment of  gambling  consciousness  of  what  was  about 
to  be  done.  Red  closed  the  door  on  the  scene,  and 
turned  to  face  the  night. 

The  wind  came  in  furious  gusts,  with  brief  inter- 
vals of  calm.  There  were  no  clouds,  however,  and 
the  moon,  which  had  risen  not  long  before,  made 
the  prairie  almost  as  light  as  if  morning  had  dawned. 
As  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  in  any  direction, 
nothing  was  to  be  seen  but  the  level  ground,  the 
unflecked  sky,  the  cabin  and  the  little  group  near 
the  tethered  ponies. 

Gledware  had  already  been  stationed  with  his 
face  toward  the  moon,  and  Kansas  Kimball  was 
calmly  examining  his  pistol.  Between  them  and  the 
horses,  Brick  Willock  had  come  to  a  halt,  the  little 
girl  still  sleeping  in  his  powerful  arms.  Red's 
eagle  eye  noted  that  she  had  unconsciously  slipped 
an  arm  about  the  highwayman's  neck,  as  if  by  some 
instinct  she  would  cling  the  closer  to  the  only  one 
in  the  band  of  ten  who  had  spoken  for  her  life. 

Red  scowled  heavily.  He  had  not  forgiven  Wil- 
lock for  beating  him  at  cards,  still  less  for  bis  per- 


I0  LAHOMA 

sistent  opposition  to  his  wishes ;  and  he  now 
resolved  that  it  should  be  Willock's  hand  to  deal  the 
fatal  blow.  He  had  been  troubled  before  to-night 
by  insubordination  on  the  part  of  this  man  of 
bristling  whiskers,  this  knave  whose  voice  was  ever 
for  mercy,  if  mercy  were  possible.  Why  should 
Willock  have  joined  men  who  were  without  scruple 
and  without  shame?  As  the  leader  stared  at  him 
sullenly,  he  reflected  that  it  was  just  such  natures 
that  fail  at  the  last  extremity  of  hardihood,  that 
desert  comrades  in  crime,  that  turn  state's  evidence. 
Yes  —  Willock  should  deal  the  blow,  even  if  Red 
found  it  necessary  to  call  all  his  men  from  the 
cabin  to  enforce  the  order. 

The  captain's  fears  were  not  groundless.  He 
would  have  been  much  more  alarmed,  could  he  have 
known  the  wonderful  thoughts  that  surged  through 
Willock's  brain,  and  the  wonderful  emotions  that 
thrilled  his  heart,  at  the  warm  confiding  pressure 
of  the  arm  about  his  neck. 


CHAPTER  II 

BRICK    MAKES  &   MOVE 

AS  Kansas  Kimball  raised  his  weapon  to  fire, 
the  man  before  him  tittered  a  cry  of  terror 
and  began  to  entreat  for  his  life.  In  the  full 
light  of  the  dazzling  moon,  his  face  showed  all  the 
pallor,  all  the  contortions  of  a  coward  who,  though 
believing  himself  lost,  has  not  the  resolution  to 
mask  his  fear.  He  poured  forth  incoherent 
promises  of  secrecy,  ejaculations  of  despair  and 
frenzied  assurances  of  innocence. 

"  Hold  on,  Kansas!  "  interposed  Red.  "  There's 
not  a  one  of  the  bunch  believes  that  story  about  the 
last  wagon  getting  away,  and  the  dying  wife.  We 
know  this  Gledware  is  a  spy,  whatever  he  says,  and 
that  he  brought  the  kid  along  for  protection.  He 
knew  if  we  got  back  to  No-Man's  Land  we  couldn't 
be  touched,  not  being  under  no  jurisdiction,  and  he 
wanted  to  find  us  with  our  paint  and  feathers  off. 
He's  a  sneaking  dog,  and  a  bullet's  too  good  for 
him.  But — "  with  an  oath  —  "  blessed  if  he  don't 

hate  to  die  worse  than  any  man  ever  I  saw !     I  don'fi 

ii 


J2  LAHOMA 

mind  to  spare  him  a  few  minutes  if  he's  agreeable. 
I  put  it  to  him  —  would  he  rather  the  kid  be  put 
out  of  the  way  first,  and  him  afterwards,  or  does 
he  want  the  first  call  ?" 

"  For  God's  sake,  put  it  off  as  long  as  you  will! " 
quavered  the  prisoner.     "I  swear  I'm  no  spy.     I 


swear  — " 


.  "  This  is  unpleasant/'  the  captain  of  the  highway- 
men interposed.  "  Just  you  say  another  word,  and 
I'll  put  daylight  into  you  with  my  own  hand. 
Stand  there  and  keep  mum,  and  I'll  give  you  a  little 
breathing  space." 

Kansas,  not  without  a  sigh  of  relief,  lowered  his 
weapon  and  looked  questioningly  at  his  brother. 
The  shadow  of  the  log  cabin  was  upon  him,  mak- 
ing more  sinister  his  uncouth  attire,  and  his  lean 
vindictive  face  under  the  huge  Mexican  hat.  Gled- 
ware,  not  daring  to  move,  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on 
that  deep  gloom  out  of  which  at  any  moment  might 
spurt  forth  the  red  flash  of  death.  From  within 
the  cabin  came  loud  oaths  inspired  by  cards  or 
drink,  as  if  the  inmates  would  drown  any  calls  for 
mercy  or  sounds  of  execution  that  might  be  abroad 
in  the  night. 

"  Now,  Brick  Willock,"  the  leader  spoke  grimly, 
"take  your  turn  first.  That  kid's  got  to  die,  and 


BRICK  MAKES  A  MOVE  13 

you  are  to  do  the  trick,  and  do  it  without  any 
foolishness." 

"  I  can't,"  Willock  declared  doggedly. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  yes,  you  can,  Brick.  You  see,  we  can't 
'tend  to  no  infant  class,  and  I  ain't  hard-hearted 
enough  to  leave  a  five-year-old  girl  to  die  of  hunger 
on  the  prairie;  nor  do  I  mean  to  take  her  to  no 
town  or  stage-station  as  a  card  for  to  be  tracked  by. 
Oh,  yes,  you  can,  Brick,  and  now's  the  time." 

"  Red,"  exclaimed  Willock  desperately,  "  I  tell 
you  fair,  and  I  tell  you  foul,  that  this  little  one  lives 
as  long  as  I  do." 

"  And  what  do  you  aim  to  do  with  her,  eh, 
Brick?" 

Willock  made  no  reply.  He  had  formed  no  plans 
for  his  future,  or  for  that  of  the  child;  but  his 
left  arm  closed  more  tightly  about  her. 

"  Now,  Brick,"  said  Red  slowly,  "  this  ain't  the 
first  time  you  have  proved  yourself  no  man  for 
our  business,  and  I  call  Kansas  to  witness  you've 
brought  this  on  yourself — ' 

Without  finishing  his  sentence,  Red  swiftly  raised 
his  arm  and  fired  pointblank  at  Willock's  head  as  it 
was  defined  above  the  sleeping  form.  Though 
famed  as  an  orator,  Red  understood  very  well  that, 
at  times,  action  is  everything,  and  there  is  death 


u4  LAHOMA! 

in  long  speaking.  He  was  noted  as  a  man  who 
never  missed  his  mark;  and  in  the  Cimarron 
country,  which  belonged  to  no  state  and  therefore 
to  no  court,  extensive  and  deadly  had  been  his  prac: 
tise,  without  fear  of  retribution. 

Now,  however,  his  bullet  had  gone  astray.  The 
few  words  to  which  he  had  treated  himself  as  an 
introduction  to  the  intended  deed  had  proved  his 
undoing.  They  had  been  enough  to  warn  Willock 
of  what  was  coming;  and  just  before  Kansas  had 
been  called  on  "  to  witness,"  that  is,  an  instant  before 
Red  fired,  Willock  had  sent  a  bullet  through  the 
threatening  wrist.  The  two  detonations  were  al- 
most simultaneous,  and  Red's  roar  of  pain,  as  he 
dropped  his  weapon,  rang  out  as  an  accompaniment 
to  the  crash  of  firearms. 

The  next  instant,  Willock,  with  a  second  shot 
from  his  six-shooter,  stretched  Kansas  on  the 
ground;  then,  rushing  forward  with  reversed 
weapon,  he  brought  the  butt  down  on  Red's  head 
with  such  force  as  to  deprive  him  of  consciousness. 
So  swift  and  deadly  were  his  movements,  so  wild 
his  appearance  as,  with  long  locks  streaming  in  the 
wind  and  huge  black  whiskers  hiding  all  but  glit- 
tering eyes,  aquiline  nose  and  a  brief  space  of  tough 
red  skin  —  so  much  more  like  a  demon  than  a  man, 


BRICK  MAKES  A  MOVE  15 

it  was  no  wonder  that  the  child,  awakened  by  the 
firing,  screamed  with  terror  at  finding  her  head 
pressed  to  his  bosom. 

"Come!"  Willock  called  breathlessly  to  the 
prisoner  who  still  stood  with  his  back  to  the  moon, 
as  if  horror  at  what  he  had  just  witnessed  rendered 
him  as  helpless  as  he  had  been  from  sheer  terror. 
Still  holding  the  screaming  child,  he  darted  to  the 
ponies  that  were  tied  to  the  projecting  logs  of  the 
cabin  and  hastily  unfastened  two  of  the  fleetest. 

Henry  Gledware,  awakened  as  from  a  trance, 
bounded  to  his  side.  Willock  helped  him  to  mount, 
then  placed  the  child  on  the  saddle  in  front  of  him. 

"  Ride! "  he  urged  hoarsely,  "  ride  for  your  life! 
They  ain't  no  other  chance  for  you  and  the  kid  — 
and  they  ain't  no  other  chance  for  me." 

He  leaped  upon  the  second  pony. 

"Which  way?"  faltered  Gledware,  settling  in 
the  saddle  and  grasping  the  bridle,  but  without  the 
other's  practised  ease. 

"  Follow  the  moon  —  I'll  ride  against  the  wind 
—  more  chance  for  one  of  us  if  we  ain't  together. 
Start  when  I  do,  for  when  they  hear  the  horses 
they'll  be  out  of  that  door  like  so  many  devils 
turned  loose  on  us.  Ride,  pardner,  ride,  and  save 
the  kid  for  God's  sake!  Now  —  off  we  go!  " 


a6  LAHOMA 

He  gave  Gledware's  pony  a  vicious  cut  with  his 
lariat,  and  drove  the  spurs  into  his  own  broncho. 
The  thunder  of  hoofs  as  they  plunged  in  dif- 
ferent directions,  caused  a  sudden  commotion  with- 
in the  isolated  cabin.  The  door  was  flung  open, 
and  in  the  light  that  streamed  forth,  Willock,  look- 
ing back,  saw  dark  forms  rush  out,  gather  about  the 
prostrate  forms  of  the  two  brothers,  move  here  and 
there  in  indecision,  then,  by  a  common  impulse, 
burst  into  a  swinging  run  for  the  horses. 

As  for  Gledware,  he  never  once  turned  his  face. 
Urging  on  his  horse  at  utmost  speed,  and  clasping 
the  child  to  his  breast,  he  raced  toward  the  light. 
The  shadow  of  horse,  man  and  child,  at  first  long 
and  black,  lessened  to  a  mere  speck,  then  vanished 
with  the  rider  beyond  the  circle  of  the  level  world. 


CHAPTER  III 

FLIGHT 

BRICK  RVILLOCK,  galloping  toward  the 
Southeast,  frequently  looked  back.  He  saw 
the  'desperadoes  leap  upon  their  horses,  wheel 
about  in  short  circles  that  brought  the  animals  up- 
right, then  spring  forward  in  pursuit.  He  heard 
the  shouting  which,  though  far  away,  sounded  the 
unmistakable  accent  of  ungovernable  fury.  In  the 
glaring  moonlight,  he  distinguished  plainly  the  cloud 
of  dust  and  sand  raised  by  the  horses,  which  the 
wind  lifted  in  white  shapes  against  the  deep  blue  of 
the  sky.  And  looking  beyond  his  pursuers  toward 
the  rude  cabin  where  the  highwaymen  had  so  long 
held  their  rendezvous,  he  knew,  because  no  animate 
forms  appeared  against  the  horizon,  that  the  Kim- 
ball  brothers  lay  where  he  had  stretched  them  — 
one,  senseless  from  the  crashing  blow  on  his  head, 
the  other,  lifeless  from  the  bullet  in  his  breast. 

The  little  girl  and  her  stepfather  had  vanished 
from  the  smooth  open  page  of  the  Texas  Panhandle 
—  and  Brick  Willock  rejoiced,  with  a  joy  new  to 

17 


i8  LAHOMA 

him,  that  these  escaped  prisoners  had  not  been  pur- 
sued. It  was  himself  that  the  band  meant  to  sub- 
ject to  their  savage  vengeance,  and  himself  alone. 
The  murder  of  the  child  was  abhorrent  to  their 
hearts  which  had  not  attained  the  hardened  insen- 
sibility of  their  leader's  conscience,  and  they  were 
willing  for  the  supposed  spy  to  escape,  since  it 
spared  them  the  embarrassment  of  disposing  of  the 
little  girl. 

But  Brick  Willock  had  been  one  of  them  and  he 
had  killed  their  leader,  and  their  leader's  brother, 
or  at  least  had  brought  them  to  the  verge  of  death. 
If  Red  Kimball  revived,  he  would  doubtless  right 
his  own  wrongs,  should  Willock  live  to  be  punished. 
In  the  meantime,  it  was  for  them  to  treat  with  the 
traitor  —  this  giant  of  a  Texan,  huge-whiskered, 
slow  of  speech,  who  had  ever  been  first  to  throw 
himself  into  the  thick  of  danger  but  who  had  al- 
ways hung  back  from  deeds  of  cruelty.  He  had 
plundered  coaches  and  wagon-trains  with  them,  he 
had  fought  with  them  against  strong  bodies  of  emi- 
grants, he  had  killed  and  burned  —  in  the  eyes  of 
the  world  his  deeds  made  him  one  of  them,  and  his 
aspect  marked  him  as  the  most  dangerous  of  the 
band.  But  they  had  always  felt  the  difference  — 
and  now  they  meant  to  kill  him  not  only  because  he 


FLIGHT  19 

had  overpowered  their  leader  but  because  of  this 
difference, 

As  their  bullets  pursued  him,  Willock  lay  along 
the  body  of  the  broncho,  feeling  his  steed  very  small, 
and  himself  very  large  —  and  yet,  despite  the  rain 
of  lead,  his  pleasure  over  the  escape  of  the  child 
warmed  his  heart.  The  sand  was  plowed  up  by  his 
side  from  the  peppering  of  bullets  —  but  he  seemed 
to  feel  that  innocent  unconscious  arm  about  his 
great  neck;  the  yells  of  rage  were  in  his  ears,  but 
he  heard  the  soft  breathing  of  the  little  one  fast 
asleep  in  the  midst  of  her  dangers. 

He  had  selected  for  himself,  and  for  Gledware, 
ponies  that  had  often  been  run  against  each  other, 
and  which  no  others  of  all  Red  Kimball's  corral 
could  surpass  in  speed.  Gledware  and  the  child 
were  on  the  pony  that  Kimball  had  once  staked 
against  the  swiftest  animal  the  Indians  could  pro- 
duce—  and  Willock  rode  the  pride  of  the  Indian 
band,  which  had  almost  won  the  prize.  The  ponies 
had  been  staked  on  the  issue  of  that  encounter  — 
and  the  highwaymen  had  retained,  by  right  of  craft 
and  force,  what  the  government  would  not  permit 
its  wards  to  barter  or  sell. 

The  race  was  long  but  always  unequal.  The  ruf- 
fians who  had  dashed  from  the  scene  of  the  cabin 


20  LAHOMA 

almost  in  an  even  line,  scattered  and  straggled  un- 
evenly; now  only  two  were  able  to  send  bullets 
whistling  about  Willock's  head ;  now  only  one  found 
it  possible  to  cover  the  distance.  At  last  even  he 
fell  out  of  range.  The  Indian  pony,  apparently 
tireless,  shot  on  like  an  arrow  driven  into  the  teeth 
of  the  wind,  sending  up  behind  a  cloud  of  dust  that 
stretched  backward  toward  the  baffled  pursuers,  a 
long  wavering  ribbon  like  a  clew  left  to  guide  the 
band  into  the  mysterious  depths  of  the  Great  Ameri- 
can Desert. 

When  the  last  of  the  pursuers  found  further 
effort  useless,  he  checked  his  horse.  Willock  now 
sat  erect  on  the  broncho's  bare  back,  lightly  clasp- 
ing the  halter.  Looking  behind,  he  saw  seven  horse- 
men in  varying  degrees  of  remoteness,  motionless, 
doubtless  fixing  their  wolfish  eyes  on  his  fleeing 
form.  As  long  as  he  could  distinguish  these  specks 
against  the  sky,  they  remained  stationary.  To  his 
excited  imagination  they  represented  a  living  wall 
drawn  up  between  him  and  the  abode  of  men. 
Should  he  ever  venture  back  to  that  world,  he 
fancied  those  seven  avengers  would  be  waiting  to 
receive  him  with  taunts  and  drawn  weapons. 

And  his  conscience  told  him  that  the  taunts 
would  be  merited,  for  he  had  turned  traitor,  he  had 


FLIGHT  21 

failed  in  the  only  virtue  on  which  his  fellow: 
criminals  prided  themselves.  Yes,  he  was  a  traitor; 
and  by  the  only  justice  he  acknowledged,  he  de- 
served to  die.  But  the  child  who  had  lain  so  trust- 
ingly upon  his  wild  bosom,  who  had  clung  to  him 
as  to  a  father  — >  she  was  safe !  An  unwonted  smile 
crept  under  the  bristling  beard  of  the  fugitive,  as 
he  urged  the  pony  forward  in  unrelaxing  speed. 
Should  he  seek  refuge  among  civilized  communities, 
his  crimes  would  hang  over  his  head  —  if  not  dis- 
covered, the  fear  of  discovery  would  be  his,  day 
and  night.  To  venture  into  his  old  haunts  in  No- 
Man's  Land  would  be  to  expose  his  back  to  the  as- 
sassin's knife,  or  his  breast  to  ambushed  murderers. 
He  dared  not  seek  asylum  among  the  Indians,  for 
while  bands  of  white  men  were  safe  enough  in  the 
Territory,  single  white  men  were  at  the  mercy  of 
the  moment's  caprice  —  and  certainly,  if  found 
astride  that  Indian  pony  which  the  agent  had  or- 
dered restored  to  its  owner,  his  life  would  not  be 
worth  a  thought. 

These  were  desperate  reflections,  and  the  future 
seemed  framed  in  solitude,  yet  Brick  Willock  rode 
on  with  that  odd  smile  about  the  grim  lips.  The 
smile  was  unlike  him  —  but,  the  whole  affair  was 
such  an  experience  as  had  never  entered  his  most 


22  LAHOMA 

daring  fancy.  Never  before  in  his  life  had  he  held 
a  child  in  his  arms,  still  less  had  he  felt  the  sweet 
embrace  of  peaceful  slumber.  To  another  man  it 
might  have  meant  nothing;  but  to  this  great  rough 
fellow,  the  very  sight  of  whom  had  often  struck 
terror  to  the  heart,  that  experience  seemed  worth 
all  the  privations  he  foresaw. 

The  sun  had  risen  when  the  pony,  after  a  few 
tottering  steps,  suddenly  sank  to  earth.  Willock 
unfastened  the  halter  from  its  neck,  tied  it  with  the 
lariat  about  his  waist,  and  without  pause,  set  out 
afoot.  If  the  pony  died  from  the  terrible  strain 
of  that  unremitting  flight,  doubtless  the  roving  In- 
dians of  the  plains  would  find  it  and  try  to  follow 
his  trail;  if  it  survived  he  would  be  safer  if  not 
found  near  it.  In  either  case,  swift  flight  was  still 
imperative,  and  the  shifting  sand,  beaten  out  of 
shape  by  the  constant  wind,  promised  not  to  retain 
his  footprints. 

Though  stiff  from  long  riding,  the  change  of  mo- 
tion soon  brought  renewed  vigor.  Willock  had 
grown  thirsty,  and  as  the  sun  rose  higher  and  beat 
down  on  him  from  an  unclouded  sky,  his  eyes 
searched  the  plains  eagerly  'for  some  shelter  that 
promised  water.  He  did  not  look  in  vain.  Against 
the  horizon  rose  the  low  blue  shapes  of  the  Wichita 


FLIGHI  23 

Mountains,  looking  at  first  like  flat  sheets  of  card- 
board, cut  out  by  a  careless  hand  and  set  upright  in 
the  sand. 

As  he  toiled  toward  this  refuge,  not  a  living  form 
appeared  to  dispute  his  sovereignty  of  the  desert 
world.  His  feet  sank  deep  in  the  sand,  then  trod 
lightly  over  vast  stretches  of  short  sun-burned 
mesquit,  then  again  traversed  hot  shifting  reaches 
of  naked  sand.  The  mountains  seemed  to  recede 
as  he  advanced,  and  at  times  stifling  dust  and  re- 
lentless heat  threatened  to  overpower  him.  With 
dogged  determination  he  told  himself  that  he  might 
be  forced  to  drop  from  utter  exhaustion,  but  it 
would  not  be  yet « —  not  yet  —  one  more  mile,  or, 
at  least,  another  half-mile.  So  he  advanced,  grow- 
ing weaker,  breathing  with  more  difficulty,  but  still 
muttering,  "  Not  yet' — not  just  yet!  " 

The  mountains  had  begun  to  spread  apart 
There  were  long  ranges  and  short.  Here  and  there, 
a  form  that  had  seemed  an  integral  part  of  some 
range,  defined  itself  as  distinct  from  all  others, 
lying  like  an  island  of  rock  in  a  sea  of  unbroken 
desert.  Willock  was  approaching  the  Wichita 
Mountains  from  their  southwestern  extremity. 
As  far  as  he  could  see  in  one  direction,  the  gro- 
tesque forms  stretched  in  isolated  chains  or  single 


24  LAHOMA 

groups ;  but  in  the  other,  the  end  was  reached,  and 
beyond  lay  the  unbroken  waste  of  the  Panhandle. 

Swaying  on  his  great  legs  as  with  the  weakness 
of  an  infant,  he  was  now  very  near  the  end  of  the 
system.  A  wall  of  granite,  sparsely  dotted  with 
green,  rose  above  him  to  a  height  of  about  three 
hundred  and  fifty  feet.  The  length  of  this  range 
was  perhaps  six  miles,  its  thickness  a  mile.  Con- 
cealed among  these  ridges,  he  might  be  safe,  but 
it  was  no  longer  possible  for  him  to  stand  erect;  to 
climb  the  difficult  ledges  would  be  impossible. 

He  sank  to  the  ground,  his  eyes  red  and  dimmed. 
For  some  time  he  remained  there  inert,  staring,  his 
brain  refusing  to  work.  If  yonder  stood  a  white 
object,  between  him  and  the  mountain,  a  curious 
white  something  with  wheels,  might  it  not  be  a 
covered  wagon?  No,  it  was  a  mirage.  But  was 
it  possible  for  a  mirage  to  deceive  him  into  the 
fancy  that  a  wagon  stood  only  a  few  hundred  feet 
away  ?  Perhaps  it  was  really  a  wagon.  He  stared 
stupidly,  not  moving.  There  were  no  dream-horses 
to  this  ghost- wagon.  There  was  no  sign  of  life. 
If  captured  by  the  Indians,  it  would  not  have  been 
left  intact.  But  how  came  a  wagon  into  this  barren 
world  ? 

He  stared  up  at  the  stai  as  if  to  assure  himself 


FLIGHT  25 

that  he  was  awake,  then  laughed  hoarsely,  foolishly. 
The  wagon  did  not  melt  away.  He  could  crawl 
that  far,  though  in  stretching  forth  his  arm  he 
might  grasp  but  empty  air.  He  began  to  crawl  for- 
ward, but  the  wagon  did  not  move.  As  it  grew 
plainer  in  all  its  details,  a  new  strength  came  to 
him.  He  strove  to  rise,  and  after  several  efforts, 
succeeded.  He  staggered  forward  till  his  hands 
grasped  one  of  the  wheels.  The  contact  cleared  his 
brain  as  by  a  magic  touch.  It  was  no  dream. 

Supporting  himself  by  the  sideboard,  he  drew 
himself  around  to  the  front,  the  only  opening  of  the 
canvas  room.  He  looked  within.  A  first  look  told 
him  that  the  wagon  was  fitted  up  for  a  long  journey, 
and  that  its  contents  had  not  been  disturbed  by 
bandits  or  Indians.  The  second  look  distinguished 
two  objects  that  excluded  from  attention  all  others. 
Upon  a  mattress  at  the  rear  of  the  wagon  lay  a 
woman,  her  face  covered  by  a  cloth;  and  near  the 
front  seat  stood  a  keg  of  water.  It  was  impossible 
to  note  the  rigid  form  of  the  woman  and  the  posi- 
tion of  the  arms  and  hands  without  perceiving  that 
she  was  dead. 

The  man  recognized  this  truth  but  it  made  only 
a  dim  impression;  that  keg  of  water  meant  life  — 
and  life  was  a  thousandfold  more  to  him  than 


26  LAHOMA' 

death.  He  drew  himself  upon  the  seat,  snatched 
at  the  tin  cup  beside  the  keg,  and  drew  out  the 
cloth-covered  corn-cob  that  stopped  the  flow.  Hav- 
ing slaked  his  thirst,  there  was  mingled  with  his 
sense  of  ineffable  content,  an  overwhelming  desire 
for  sleep.  He  dropped  on  the  second  mattress,  on 
which  bedclothes  were  carelessly  strewn;  his  head 
found  the  empty  pillow  that  lay  indented  as  it  had 
been  left  by  some  vanished  sleeper.  As  his  eyelids 
closed,  he  fell  sound  asleep.  But  for  the  rising  and1 
falling  of  his  powerful  breast,  he  was  as  motionless 
as  the  body  of  the  woman. 

Without,  the  afternoon  sun  slowly  sank  behind 
the  mountains  casting  long  shadows  over  the  plains ; 
the  wind  swirled  the  sand  in  tireless  eddies,  some- 
times lifting  it  high  in  great  sheets,  forming  sudden 
dunes ;  coyotes  prowled  among  the  foot-hills  and  out 
on  the  open  levels,  squatting  with  eyes  fixed  on  the 
wagon,  uttering  sharp  quick  barks  of  interrogation. 
A  herd  of  deer  lifted  their  horns  against  the  horizon, 
then  suddenly  bounded  away,  racing  like  shadows 
toward  the  lowlands  of  Red  River.  On  the  dome- 
like summit  of  Mount  Welsh,  a  mile  away,  a  moun- 
tain-lion showed  his  sinuous  form  against  the  sky 
seven  hundred  feet  in  air.  And  from  the  mountain- 
side near  at  hand  stared  from  among  the  thick 


FLIGHT  27 

greenery  of  a  cedar,  the  face  of  an  Indian  whose 
black  hair  was  adorned  by  a  single  red  feather. 

Within  the  wagon,  unconscious  of  all,  in  strange 
fellowship,  lay  the  living  and  the  dead. 


CHAPTER  IVJ 

AN   UNWONTED  PRAYER 

WHEN  Willock  started  up  from  the  mattress  in 
the  covered  wagon,  the  sun  had  set.  Every 
object,  however,  was  clearly  defined  in  the  first 
glow  of  the  long  August  twilight,  and  it  needed 
but  a  glance  to  recall  the  events  that  had  brought 
him  to  seek  shelter  and  slumber  beside  the  dead 
woman.  He  sat  up  suddenly,  staring  from  under 
his  long  black  hair  as  it  fell  about  his  eyes.  Ac- 
customed as  he  was  to  deeds  of  violence,  even  to 
the  sight  of  men  weltering  in  their  life's  blood,  he 
was  strangely  moved  by  that  rigid  form  with  the 
thin  arms  folded  over  the  breast,  by  that  white  cloth 
concealing  face  and  hair.  A  long  keen  examina- 
tion of  the  prairie  assured  him  that  no  human  being 
was  between  him  and  the  horizon.  He  turned 
again  toward  the  woman.  He  felt  an  overpower- 
ing desire  to  look  on  her  face. 

For  years  there  had  been  no  women  in  his  world 
but  the  abandoned  creatures  who  sought  shelter  in 
the  resorts  of  Beer  City  in  No-Man's  Land  —  these, 


AN  UNWONTED  PRAYER  29 

and  the  squaws  of  the  reservations,  and  occasionally 
a  white  terrified  face  among  the  wagon-trains.  As 
a  boy,  before  running  away  from  home  in  the 
Middle  West,  he  had  known  a  different  order  of 
beings,  and  some  instinct  told  him  that  this  woman 
belonged  to  the  class  of  his  childhood's  association. 
There  was  imperative  need  of  his  hurrying  to  the 
mountain,  lest,  at  any  moment,  a  roving  band  of 
Indians  discover  the  abandoned  wagon ;  besides  this, 
he  was  very  hungry  since  his  rest,  and  the  wagon 
was  stocked  with  provisions;  nevertheless,  to  look 
on  the  face  of  the  dead  was  his  absorbing  desire. 

But  it  was  not  easy  for  him  to  yield  to  his  curi- 
osity, despite  his  life  of  crime.  Something  about 
the  majestic  repose  of  that  form  seemed  to  add  awe 
to  the  mystery  of  sex;  and  he  crouched  staring  at 
the  cloth  which  no  breath  stirred  save  the  breath  of 
evening. 

He  believed,  now,  the  story  that  Henry  Gledware 
had  reiterated  in  accents  of  abject  terror.  Surely 
this  was  the  "  Last  wagon  "  in  that  train  which  Red 
Kimball  had  attacked  the  morning  before.  Impos- 
sible as  it  had  seemed  to  the  highwaymen,  Gledware 
must  have  been  warned  of  the  attack  in  time  to  turn 
about  and  lash  his  horses  out  of  danger  of  dis- 
covery. At  this  spot,  Gledware  had  cut  loose  the 


3o  LAHOMA 

horses,  mounted  one  with  his  stepdaughter,  leaving 
the  other  to  go  at  will.  This,  then,  was  the  mother 
of  that  child  whose  arm  had  lain  in  warm  confi- 
dence about  his  neck.  On  hands  and  knees,  Wil- 
lock  crept  to  the  other  mattress  and  lifted  the  mar- 
gin of  the  large  white  cloth. 

His  hand  moved  stealthily,  slowly.  Catching 
sight  of  something  that  faintly  gleamed  at  the  collar 
of  the  dress,  he  hesitated;  his  determination  to  ex- 
amine the  countenance  was  as  firm  as  ever,  but  his 
impulse  to  put  it  off  as  long  as  possible  was  even 
stronger.  He  bent  down  to  look  closer  at  the  orna- 
ment ;  it  was  a  round  breastpin  of  onyx  and  pearl  set 
in  a  heavy  rim  of  gold.  The  warm  wind,  tempered 
by  approaching  night  to  a  grateful  balminess, 
stirred  the  cloth  between  his  fingers.  Hje  stared  as 
if  lost  in  profound  meditation.  That  pin  resembled 
one  his  mother  used  to  wear;  and,  somehow,  the 
soothing  touch  of  the  wind  reminded  him  of  her 
hand  on  his  forehead.  He  might  have  gone  back 
.home,  if  she  had  not  died  long  ago.  Now,  in  spite 
of  the  many  years  that  had  passed  over  her  grave, 
the  memory  of  her  came  as  strong,  as  sweet,  as  in- 
stinct with  the  fulness  of  life,  as  if  he  were  sud- 
denly wafted  back  into  boyhood. 

He  did  not  lift  the  cloth,  after  all,  but  having  re- 


AN  UNWONTED  PRAYER  31 

placed  it  gently,  he  searched  the  wagon  for  a  spade. 
It  was  found  in  the  box  fastened  to  the  end  of  the 
wagon,  and  with  the  spade,  in  the  gathering  darkness, 
he  dug  a  grave  near  the  mountainside.  Between 
the  strokes  of  the  blade  he  sent  searching  glances 
over  the  prairie  and  along  the  sloping  ridges  of  the 
overlooking  range,  but  there  were  no  witnesses  of 
his  work  save  the  coyotes  that  prowled  like  gray 
shadows  across  the  sands.  When  the  grave  was 
ready  he  carried  thither  in  his  giant's  arms  the  body 
of  the  woman  on  the  mattress,  and  laid  it  thus  to 
rest.  When  the  sand  was  smoothed  over  the  place, 
he  carried  thither  quantities  of  heavy  stones,  and 
broken  blocks  of  granite,  to  preserve  the  body  from 
wild  beasts. 

It  was  dark  when  the  heap  of  stones  had  been  ar- 
ranged in  the  form  of  a  low  pyramid,  but  though 
he  had  hot  tasted  food  for  twenty-four  hours,  he 
lingered  beside  the  grave,  his  head  bent  as  if  still 
struggling  with  those  unwonted  memories  of  the 
long  ago.  At  last,  as  if  forced  by  a  mysterious 
power  against  which  he  could  no  longer  resist,  he 
sank  upon  his  knees. 

"O  God,"  he  prayed  aloud,  "take  care  of  the 
little  girl." 

He  waited,  but  no  more  words  would  come  — 


32  LAHOMA 

no  other  thought.  He  rose,  feeling  strangely 
elated,  as  if  some  great  good  fortune  had  suddenly 
come  into  his  possession.  It  had  been  like  this 
when  the  sleeping  child  lay  in  his  arms;  he  could 
almost  feel  her  little  cheek  against  his  bosom,  and 
hear  the  soft  music  of  her  breathing. 

He  went  back  to  the  wagon  and  sat  on  the  tongue, 
still  oblivious  to  any  possible  danger  of  surprise. 
He  spoke  aloud,  for  company: 

"  She  wouldn't  have  wanted  me  to  look  at  her  — 
she  couldn't  have  looked  natural.  Glad  I  didn't. 
Great  Scott!  but  that  was  a  first-rate  prayer! 
Wouldn't  have  thought  after  thirty  years  I  could 
have  done  so  well.  And  it  was  all  there,  everything 
was  in  them  words!  If  she  knew  what  I  was  do- 
ing, she  couldn't  have  asked  nothing  more,  for  I 
reckon  she  wouldn't  expect  a  man  like  me  to  ask  no 
favors  for  that  white-livered  cowardly  second-hus- 
band of  hers.  I  put  in  all  my  plea  for  the  little 
girl.  Dinged  if  I  understand  how  I  come  to  be  so 
intelligent  and  handy  at  what's  all  new  business  to 
me!  I  just  says,  fO  God,  take  care  of  the  little 
girl/ — just  them  words."  He  rose  with  an  air  of 
great  content  and  went  around  to  the  front  in 
search  of  provisions.  Presently  he  spoke  aloud: 


AN  UNWONTED  PRAYER  33 

"  And  as  I  ain't  asked  nothing  for  myself  since 
I  run  off  from  home,  I  guess  God  won't  mind  put- 
ting the  little  girl  on  my  expense-account." 


CHAPTER  V 

A   NEW    ROBINSON    CRUSOE 

IT  came  over  him  with  disconcerting  suddenness 
that  he  had  lost  a  great  deal  of  time,  and  that 
every  moment  spent  in  the  covered  wagon  was 
fraught  with  imminent  danger.  It  was  not  in  his 
mind  that  the  band  of  highwaymen  might  discover 
his  hiding-place.  Knowing  them  as  he  did,  he  was 
sure  they  would  not  come  so  far  from  their  haunts 
or  from  the  Sante  Fe  train  in  pursuit  of  him. 
But  the  Indians  roamed  the  Panhandle,  as  much  at 
home  there  as  in  their  reservations  —  and  here  they 
were  much  more  dangerous.  Had  no  savage  eye 
discerned  that  wagon  during  the  brilliant  August 
day?  Might  it  be  that  even  while  he  slept  at  the 
feet  of  the  dead  woman,  a  feathered  head  had 
slipped  under  the  canvas  side,  a  red  face  had  bent 
over  him? 

It  was  a  disquieting  fancy.  .Willock  told  him- 
self that,  had  such  been  the  case,  his  scalp-lock 
would  not  still  adorn  his  own  person;  for  all  that, 
he  was  eager  to  be  gone.  Instead  of  eating  in 

34 


A  NEW  ROBINSON  CRUSOE          35; 

the  wagon,  he  wrapped  up  some  food  in  a  bread- 
cloth,  placed  this  with  a  few:  other  articles  in  a 
tarpaulin  —  among  them,  powder  and  shot  —  and, 
having  lifted  the  keg  of  water  to  one  shoulder, 
and  the  rope-bound  tarpaulin  to  the  other,  he 
left  the  wagon  with  a  loaded  gun  in  his, 
hand. 

Twilight  had  faded  to  starlight  and  the  mountain 
range  stood  blackly  defined  against  the  glittering 
stars.  It  was  easy  to  find  his  way,  for  on  the 
level  sands  there  were  no  impediments,  and  when 
the  mountain  was  reached,  a  low  divide  offered 
him  easy  passage  up  the  ascent.  For  the  most 
part  the  slopes  were  gradual  and  in  steeper  places, 
ledges  of  granite,  somewhat  like  giant  stairs,  as- 
sisted him  to  the  highest  ridge.  From  this  vantage- 
point  he  could  see  the  level  plain  stretching  away 
on  the  farther  side;  he  could  count  the  ridges  run- 
ning parallel  to  the  one  on  which  he  had  paused, 
and  note  the  troughs  between,  which  never  descended 
to  the  level  ground  to  deserve  the  name  of  valleys. 
Looking  down  upon  this  tortured  mass  of  granite, 
he  seemed  gazing  over  a  petrified  sea  that,  in  the 
fury  of  a  storm,  had  been  caught  at  the  highest 
dashing  of  its  waves,  and  fixed  in  threatening  mo- 
tion which  throughout  the  ages  would  remain  as 


^6  LAHOMA 

calm  and  secure  as  the  level  waste  that  stretched 
from  the  abrupt  Walls  in  every  direction. 

On  that  first  ridge  he  paused  but  a  moment, 
lest  his  figure  be  outlined  against  the  night  for 
the  keen  gaze  of  some  hidden  foe.  Steadying  the 
keg  with  one  hand  and  holding  his  gun  alert,  he 
descended  into  the  first  trough  and  climbed  to  the 
next  ridge,  meaning  to  traverse  the  mile  of  broken 
surface,  thus  setting  a  granite  wall  between  him 
and  the  telltale  wagon.  The  second  ridge  was 
not  so  high  as  the  outer  wall,  and  he  paused  Here, 
feeling  more  secure.  The  ground  was  fairly  level 
for  perhaps  fifty  yards  before  its  descent  to  the 
next  rolling  depression  where  the  shadows  lay  in 
unrelieved  gloom.  On  the  crest,  about  him,  tHe  dim 
light  defined  broken  boulders  and  great  blocks  of 
granite  in  grotesque  forms,  some  suggesting  fan- 
tastic monsters,  others,  in  sharp-cut  or  rounded 
forms  seemingly  dressed  by  Cyclopean  chisels. 

The  fugitive  was  not  interested  in  the  dimly  de- 
fined shapes  about  him;  his  attention  had  been  at- 
tracted by  a  crevice  in  the  smooth  rock  ledge  at 
his  feet.  This  ledge,  barren  of  vegetation,  and  as 
level  as  a  slab  of  rough  marble,  showed  a  long 
black  line  like  a  crack  in  a  stone  pavement.  At 
the  man's  feet  the  crevice  "was  perhaps  two  feet 


A  NEW.  ROBINSON  CRUSOE          37, 

aride,  but  as  it  stretched  toward  the  -west  it  nar- 
rowed gradually,  and  disappeared  under  a  mass 
of  disorganized  stones,  as  a  mere  slit  in  the  sur- 
face. 

Presently  he  set  the  keg  and  the  tarpaulin-ball  on 
the  ground,  not  to  rest  his  shoulders,  but  in  order 
to  sink  on  his  knees  beside  the  crevice.  He  put  his 
face  down  over  it,  listening,  peering,  but  making 
no  discovery.  Then  he  unwound  the  lariat  from 
about  his  waist,  tied  it  to  the  rope  that  had  been 
a  halter,  and  having  fastened  a  stone  to  one  end, 
lowered  it  into  the  black  space.  The  length  of  the 
lariat  slipped  through  his  fingers  and  the  rope  was 
following  when  suddenly  the  rock  found  lodgment 
at  the  bottom.  On  making  this  discovery  he  drew 
up  the  lariat,  opened  the  cloth  containing  the  food, 
and  began  to  cat  rapidly  and  with  evident  ex- 
citement. He  did  not  fail  to  watch  on  all  sides 
as  he  enjoyed  his  long  delayed  meal,  and  while  he 
ate  and  thus  watched,  he  thought  rapidly.  When 
the  first  cravings  of  appetite  were  partly  satisfied, 
he  left  his  baker's  bread  and  bacon  on  a  stone,  tied 
up  the  rest  of  the  food  in  its  cloth,  rolled  this  in 
the  tarpaulin,  and  lowered  it  by  means  of  the  lariat 
into  the  crevice.  Then,  having  tied  the  end  of  the 
rope  to  the  gun-barrel,  he  placed  the  gun  across 


38  LAHOMA 

the  crevice  and  swung  himself  down  into  the 
gloom. 

The  walls  of  the  crevice  were  so  close  together 
that  he  was  able  to  steady  his  knees  against  them, 
but  as  he  neared  the  bottom  they  widened  percep- 
tibly. His  first  act  on  setting  foot  to  the  stone 
flooring  was  to  open  the  tarpaulin,  draw  forth  a 
candle  and  a  box  of  matches,  and  strike  a  light. 
The  chamber  of  granite  in  which  he  stood  was  in- 
deed narrow,  but  full  of  interest  and  romance.  The 
floor  was  about  the  same  width  in  all  its  length, 
wide  enough  for  Willock,  tall  as  He  was,  to  stretch 
across  the  passage.  It  extended  perhaps  a  hundred 
feet  into  the  heart  of  the  rock,  showing  the  same 
smooth  walls  on  either  side.  The  ceiling,  however, 
was  varied,  as  the  outward  examination  had  prom- 
ised. Overhead  the  stars  were  seen  at  ease  through 
the  two  feet  of  space  at  the  top;  but  as  he  carried 
his  candle  forward,  this  opening  decreased,  to  be 
succeeded  presently  by  a  roof,  at  first  of -jumbled 
stones  crushed  together  by  outward  weight,  then  of 
a  smooth  red  surface  extending  to  the  end. 

The  floor  was  the  same  everywhere  save  at  its 
extremities.  At  the  point  of  Willock's  descent,  it 
dipped  away  in  a  narrow  line  that  would  not  have 
admitted  a  man's  body.  At  the  other  end,  where 


A  NEW  ROBINSON  CRUSOE          39 

he  now  stood,  it  suddenly  gave  way  to  empty  space. 
It  came  to  an  end  so  abruptly  that  there  was  no 
means  of  discovering  how  deep  was  the  narrow, 
abyss  beyond.  Possibly  it  descended  a  sheer  three 
hundred  feet,  the  depth  of  the  ridge  at  that  place. 
On  the  smooth  floor  which  melted  to  nothingness 
with  such  sinister  and  startling  suddenness,  the 
candlelight  revealed  the  skeleton  of  a  man  lying  at 
the  margin  of  the  unknown  depths.  Mingled  with 
the  bones  that  had  fallen  apart  with  the  pass- 
ing of  centuries,  was  a  drawn  sword  of  blackened 
hilt  and  rusted  blade  —  a  sword  of  old  Spanish 
make  —  and  in  the  dust  of  a  rotted  purse  lay  a 
small  heap  of  gold  coins  of  strange  design. 

"  Well,  pard,"  said  Brick  Willock  grimly,  "  you 
come  here  first  and  much  obliged  to  you.  You've 
told  me  two  things:  that  once  in  here,  no  getting 
out  —  unless  you  bring  along  your  ladder;  and 
what's  better  still,  nobody  has  been  here  since  you 
come,  or  that  wouldn't  be  my  money!  And  now 
having  told  me  all  you  got  to  say,  my  cavalier, 
I  guess  we'd  better  part."  He  raked  the  bones  into 
a  heap,  and  dashed  them  into  the  black  gulf.  He 
did  not  hear  them  when  they  struck  bottom,  and 
the  sinister  silence  gave  him  an  odd  thrill.  He 
shook  his  head.  "  If  I  ever  roll  out  of  bed  here," 


40  LAHOMA 

he  said,  "me  and  you  will  spend  the  rest  of  the 
time  together,  pardner." 

He  did  not  linger  for  idle  speculation,  but  drew 
himself  up  his  dangling  rope,  and  in  a  short  time 
was  once  more  outside  the  place  of  refuge.  Al- 
ways on  the  lookout  for  possible  watchers,  he 
snatched  up  his  bread  and  meat,  and  ate  as  he  hast- 
ened over  the  outer  ridge  and  down  the  rugged  side 
toward  the  wagon.  Here  he  filled  a  box  with  canned 
provisions  and  a  side  of  bacon,  and  on  top  of  this 
he  secured  a  sack  of  flour.  It  made  a  heavy  bur- 
den, but  his  long  sleep  had  restored  him  to  his 
wonted  strength,  and  he  could  not  be  sure  but  this 
trip  to  the  wagon  would  be  his  last.  With  some 
difficulty  he  hoisted  the  box  to  his  herculean 
shoulder,  and  grasping  a  spade  and  an  ax  in  his 
disengaged  hand,  toiled  upward  to  his  asylum. 

When  the  crevice  in  the  mountain-top  was 
reached,  he  threw  the  contents  of  the  box  down  into 

the  tarpaulin  which  he  had  spread  out  to  receive 

i 

it,  and  having  broken  up  the  box  with  the  ax,  cast 
the  boards  down  that  they  might  fall  to  one  side 
of  the  provisions.  This  done,  he  returned  to  the 
wagon,  from  above  invisible,  but  which,  when  he 
stood  on  the  plain,  loomed  dim  and  shapeless  against 
the  night 


A  NEW  ROBINSON  CRUSOE          411 

There  were  great  stores  of  comforts  and  even 
some  luxuries  in  the  wagon,  and  it  was  hard  for 
him  to  decide  what  to  take  next;  evidently  Henry 
Gledware  and  his  wife  had  expected  to  live  in  their 
wagon  after  reaching  their  destination,  for  there 
was  a  stove  under  the  seat,  and  a  stovepipe  fast- 
ened to  one  side  of  the  wagon. 

"  If  the  Indians  don't  catch  me  at  this  business," 
said  Willock,  looking  at  the  stove,  "I'll  get  you 
too!"  He  believed  it  could  be  loWerec!  between 
the  stone  lips  of  his  cave-mouth,  for  it  was  the 
smallest  stove  he  had  ever  seen,  surely  less  than 
two  feet  in  width.  "  FU  get  you  in,"  said  the 
plunderer  decidedly,  "  or  something  will  be  broke !  " 

For  the  present,  however,  he  took  objects  more 
appropriate  to  summer:  the  mattress  upon  which 
he  had  passed  the  afternoon,  a  bucket  in  which  he 
packed  boxes  of  matches,  a  quantity  of  candles, 
soap,  and  the  like.  This  bucket  he  put  in  the  middle 
of  the  mattress  and  flanked  it  with  towels  and  pil- 
lows, between  which  were  inserted  plates,  cups  and 
saucers.  "I'll  just  take  'em  all,"  he  muttered, 
groping  for  more  dishes,  "  I  might  have  company !  " 

The  mattress  once  doubled  over  its  ill-assorted 
contents,  he  was  obliged  to  rope  both  ends  before 
he  could  carry  it  in  safety.  This  load,  heavier  than 


42  LAHOMA 

the  last,  he  succeeded  in  getting  to  the  crevice,  and 
as  he  poised  it  over  the  brink  a  few  yards  from 
where  the  tarpaulin  lay,  he  apostrophized  it  with 
—  "Break  if  you  want  to;  pieces  is  good  enough 
for  your  Uncle  Brick!  " 

When  he  left  the  wagon  with  his  next  burden, 
he  was  obliged  to  bend  low  under  buckets,  tools, 
cans  and  larger  objects.  As  he  moved  slowly  to 
preserve  equilibrium,  he  began  to  chuckle. .  "  Reckon 
if  the  Injuns  saw  me  now,"  he  said  aloud,  "  they'd 
take  me  for  an  elephant  with  the  circus-lady  riding 
my  back!"  At  the  crevice,  he  flung  in  all  that 
would  pass  the  narrow  opening  intact,  and  smashed 
up  what  was  too  large,  that  their  fragments  might 
also  be  hidden. 

"Pshaw!"  grunted  Willock,  as  he  started  back 
toward  the  wagon,  mopping  his  brow  on  his  shirt- 
sleeve, "  Robinson  Crusoe  wasn't  in  it !  Wonder 
why  he  done  all  that  complaining  when  he  had  a 
nice  easy  sea  to  wash  him  and  his  plunder  ashore?  " 

He  was  beginning  to  (feel  the  weariness  of  the 
morning  return,  and  the  load  that  cleaned  out  the 
wagon-bed  left  him  so  exhausted  that  he  fell  down 
on  the  ground  beside  the  crevice,  having  thrown  in 
his  booty.  Here,  with  his  gun  at  his  side  anc}  a 
pistol  in  his  hand,  he  fell  fast  asleep. 


A  NEW  ROBINSON  CRUSOE          43 

He  lay  there  like  a  man  of  stone  until  some  inner 
consciousness  began  beating  at  the  door  of  his 
senses,  warning  him  that  in  no  great  time  the  moon 
would  rise.  He  started  up  in  a  state  of  dazed  be- 
wilderment, staring  at  the  solemn  stars,  the  vague 
outlines  of  giant  rocks  about  him  and  the  limitless 
sea  of  darkness  that  flowed  away  from  the  moun- 
tain-top indicating,  but  not  defining,  the  surround- 
ing prairie. 

"  Get  up  from  here !  "  Willock  commanded  him- 
self. He  obeyed  rather  stiffly,  but  when  he  was  on 
his  feet,  ax  in  hand,  he  made  the  trip  to  the  wagon 
nimbly  enough.  As  he  drew  near,  he  saw  gray 
shadows  slipping  away  —  they  were  wolves.  He 
shouted  at  them  disdainfully,  and  without  pause 
began  removing  the  canvas  from  over  the  wagon. 
When  that  was  done,  his  terrific  blows  resolved  the 
wagon-bed  to  separated  boards,  somewhat  splintered 
but  practically  intact.  By  means  of  the  wrench  he 
removed  the  wheels  and  separated  the  parts  of  the 
wagon- frame.  Always,  when  he  had  obtained 
enough  for  a  load,  he  made  that  toilsome  journey 
to  his  retreat.  He  took  the  four  wheels  at  one 
time,  rolling  them  one  by  one,  lifting  them  singly 
from  ledge  to  ledge. 

The  last  of  his  work  was  made  easier  because  the 


44  LAHOMA 

darkness  had  begun  to  lift.  Suddenly  a  glow  ap- 
peared at  the  rim  of  the  world,  to  be  followed,  as 
it  seemed,  almost  immediately  by  the  dazzling  edge 
of  an  immense  silver  shield.  The  moon  rolled  over 
the  desert  waste  and  rested  like  a  solid  wheel  of 
fire  on  the  sand.  Instantly  for  miles  and  miles 
there  was  not  a  shadow  on  the  earth.  The  level 
shafts  of  light  bathed  with  grotesque  luminous  dis- 
tinction the  countless  prairie-dogs  which,  squatting 
before  the  mouths  of  their  retreats,  barked  at  the 
quick  betrayal.  Coyotes,  as  if  taken  by  surprise, 
swung  swiftly  toward  remote  mountain  fastnesses, 
their  backs  to  the  light. 

When  Willock  made  his  last  and  slowest  trip  to 
the  ridge,  his  feet  dragging  like  lead,  there  was 
nothing  to  show  that  a  covered  wagon  had  stood  at 
the  edge  of  the  prairie;  the  splinters  of  the  final 
demolition  had  already  mingled  indistinguishably 
with  the  wind-driven  sand.  Arrived  at  the  second 
ridge,  which  was  still  in  darkness,  he  took  pains 
that  no  telltale  sign  should  be  left  on  the  smooth 
expanse  of  granite  to  indicate  the  near  presence  of 
a  man.  Swinging  to  the  lariat  that  was  now  tied 
to  a  short  plank,  he  lowered  himself  into  the  midst 
of  the  debris  with  which  that  part  of  his  floor  was 
strewn.  Poised  on  top  of  the  heap  of  boards  .that 


A  NEW  ROBINSON  CRUSOE         43 

had  formed  the  sides  of  the  wagon,  he  pushed  up- 
ward with  a  longer  plank  and  dislodged  the  one 
from  which  the  rope  dangled.  It  fell  at  his  feet. 

Provided  with  nails,  a  hammer  and  plenty  of 
lumber,  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  construct  a  lad- 
der for  egress.  At  present,  he  was  too  tired  to  pro- 
vide for  the  future.  He  left  the  spoils  just  as  they 
had  fallen,  except  for  the  old  wagon-tongue  and  a 
board  or  two  with  which  he  built  a  barricade  against 
the  unknown  depths  at  the  farthest  margin  of  the 
floor.  Then  drawing  the  mattress  to  one  side,  and 
clearing  it  of  its  contents,  he  fell  upon  it  with  a 
sigh  of  comfort,  and  was  again  plunged  into  slumber 
— -  slumber  prolonged  far  into  the  following  day. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A   MYSTERIOUS   GUEST 

WHEN  he  awoke,  a  bar  of  sunshine  which  at 
first  he  mistook  for  an  outcropping  of 
Spanish  gold,  glowed  against  the  granite  wall  of  his 
mountain-top  retreat.  He  rose  in  leisurely  fashion 
—  henceforth  there  would  be  plenty  of  time,  years 
of  it,  running  to  waste  with  useless  days.  After 
eating  and  partaking  sparingly  of  the  brackish  water 
of  the  keg,  he  nailed  together  two  long  sideboards 
of  the  dismembered  wagon;  and  having  secured 
these  end  to  end,  he  fastened  in  parallel  strips  to 
the  surface  short  sticks  as  steps  to  his  ladder. 
This  finished,  he  made  a  rope-ladder.  The  ladder 
of  boards  was  for  use  in  leaving  the  cave ;  the  rope- 
ladder,  which  he  meant  to  hide  under  some  boulder 
near  the  crevice,  could  be  used  in  making  the  de- 
scent. 

The  formless  mass  of  inchoate  'debris,  the  result 
of  his  toilsome  journeys  of  the  night  before,  was 
left  as  it  had  fallen  —  there  .would  be  time  enough 

to  sort  all  that,  a  hundred  times.     At  present,  he 

46 


A  MYSTERIOUS  GUEST  47; 

would  venture  forth  with  the  sole  object  of  examin- 
ing his  surroundings.  "  This  suits  me  exactly,"  he 
muttered,  with  a  good-humored  chuckle;  "  just  do- 
ing one  thing  at  a  time,  and  being  everlasting  slow 
about  doing  that." 

Fastening  the  rope-ladder  about  his  waist,  he 
scaled  the  boards,  and  on  reaching  the  top,  cast 
them  down.  First,  he  looked  all  about,  but  no  liv- 
ing creature  was  in  sight.  "  This  is  just  to  my 
hand,"  he  said  aloud,  seeking  a  suitable  hiding-place 
for  the  rope-ladder ;  "  I  always  did  despise  com- 
pany." 

Stowing  away  the  rope-ladder  in  a  secure  fissure 
between  two  giant  blocks  of  granite,  each  the  size 
of  a  large  two-story  house,  he  crossed  to  the  first 
ridge,  and  looked  out  over  the  prairie,  to  triumph 
over  the  vacant  spot  where  the  covered  wagon  had 
stood  fifteen  hours  before.  "  No  telling  what  a 
man  can  do,"  he  exclaimed  admiringly,  "  that  is 
to  say,  if  his  name  is  Brick  Willock." 

His  eyes  wandered  to  the  mound  of  stones  built 
over  the  woman's  grave.  His  prayer  recurred  to 
his  mind.  "Well,  God,"  he  said,  looking  up  at 
the  cloudless  sky,  "  I  guess  you're  doing  it ! " 
After  this  expression  of  faith,  he  turned  about  and 
set  forth  to  traverse  the  mountain  range.  Passing 


48  LAHOMA 

the  ridge  which  he  already  looked  upon  as  home, 
he  crossed  other  ridges  of  varying  height,  and  at 
the  end  of  a  mile  reached  the  southern  limit  of  the 
mountain.  Like  the  northern  side  the  southern  ele- 
vation was  nearly  four  hundred  feet,  as  if  the 
granite  sea  had  dashed  upward  in  fiercest  waves,  in 
a  last  futile  attempt  to  inundate  the  plain.  The 
southern  wall  was  precipitous,  and  Willock,  look- 
ing down  the  cedar-studded  declivity,  could  gaze  di- 
rectly on  the  verdant  levels  that  came  to  the  very 
foot. 

He  stood  at  the  center  of  an  enormous  horse- 
shoe formed  on  the  southwest  by  the  range  curving 
farther  toward  the  south,  and  on  his  left  hand,  by 
the  same  range  sweeping  in  a  quarter-circle  toward 
the  southeast.  The  mouth  of  this  granite  half- 
circle  was  opened  to  the  south,  at  least  a  quarter- 
mile  in  width ;  but  on  his  left,  a  jutting  spur  almost 
at  right  angles  to  the  main  range,  and  some  hun- 
dreds of  yards  closer  to  his  position,  shot  across 
the  space  within  the  horseshoe  bend,  in  such  fashion 
that  an  observer,  standing  on  the  plain,  would  have 
half  his  view  of  the  inner  concave  expanse  shut 
off,  except  that  part  of  the  high  north  wall  that 
towered  above  the  spur. 

Nor  was  this  all.     Behind  the  perpendicular  arm, 


A  MYSTERIOUS  GUEST  49 

or  spur,  that  ran  out  into  the  sea  of  mesquit,  rose 
a  low  hill  that  was  itself  in  the  nature  of  an  inner 
spur  although,  since  it  failed  to  reach  the  mountain, 
it  might  be  regarded  as  a  long  flat  island,  sur- 
rounded by  the  calm  green  tide.  This  innermost 
arm,  or  island,  was  so  near  the  mountain,  that  the 
entrance  to  it  opened  into  a  curved  inner  world 
of  green,  was  narrow  and  strongly  protected.  The 
cove  thus  formed  presented  a  level  floor  of  ten  or 
twelve  acres,  and  it  was  directly  down  into  this 
cove  that  Willock  gazed.  It  looked  so  peaceful  and 
secure,  and  its  openness  to  the  sunshine  was  so  al- 
luring, that  Willock  resolved  to  descend  the  steep 
wall.  To  do  so  at  that  point  was  impracticable,  but 
the  ridge  was  unequal  and  not  far  to  the  right,  sank 
to  a  low  divide,  while  to  the  left,  a  deep  gully 
thickly  set  with  cedars,  elms,  scrub-oaks  and  thorn 
trees  invited  him  with  its  steep  but  not  difficult 
channel,  to  the  ground. 

"  Here's  a  choice,"  observed  Willock,  as  he 
turned  toward  the  divide ;  "  guess  I'll  go  by  the 
front,  and  save  the  back  stairs  for  an  emerg- 
ency/' The  gully  was  his  back  stairs.  He 
was  beginning  to  feel  himself  rich  in  archi- 
tectural possibilities.  When  he  reached  the  plain 
he  was  outside  of  a  line  of  hummocks  that  effec- 


SO  LAHOMA 

tually  hid  the  cove  from  sight,  more  effectually  be- 
cause of  a  dense  grove  of  pecans  that  stood  on 
either  side  of  the  grass-grown  dunes.  Instead  of 
crossing  the  barrier,  he  started  due  south  for  the 
outer  prairie,  and  when  at  last  he  stood  midway 
between  the  wide  jaws  of  the  mountain  horseshoe, 
he  turned  and  looked  intently  toward  the  cove. 

It  was  invisible,  and  his  highest  hopes  were  re- 
alized. From  this  extended  mouth  he  could  clearly 
see  where  the  first  spur  shot  out  into  the  sand,  and 
beyond  that,  he  could  see  how,  at  a  distance,  the 
sheer  wall  of  granite  rose  to  the  sky;  but  there  was 
nothing  to  suggest  that  behind  that  scarred  arm  an- 
other projection  parallel  to  it  might  be  discovered. 
He  walked  toward  the  spur,  always  watching  for  a 
possible  glimpse  of  the  cove.  When  he  stood  on 
the  inner  side,  his  spirits  rose  higher.  The  long 
flat  island  that  he  had  discerned  from  the  moun- 
tain-top was  here  not  to  be  defined  because,  on  ac- 
count of  its  lowness  and  of  the  abrupt  wall  beyond, 
it  was  mingled  indistinguishably  with  the  perspec- 
tive of  the  range.  Concealment  was  made  easier 
from  the  fact  that  the  ground  of  the  cove  was 
lower  than  all  the  surrounding  land. 

Willock  now  advanced  on  the  cove  and  found 
himself  presently  in  a  snug  retreat  that  would  have 


A  MYSTERIOUS  GUEST  511 

filled  with  delight  the  heart  of  the  most  desperate 
highwayman,  or  the  most  timid  settler.  On  the 
north  was,  of  course,  the  towering  mountain-wall, 
broken  by  the  gully  in  the  protection  of  whose 
trees  one  might  creep  up  or  down  without  detec- 
tion. On  the  east,  the  same  mountain-wall  curved 
in  high  protection.  In  front  was  the  wide  irregu- 
lar island,  low,  indeed,  but  happily  high  enough  to 
shut  out  a  view  of  the  outside  world.  At  the  end 
of  this  barricade  there  was  a  gap,  no  wider  than  a 
wagon-road,  along  the  side  of  which  ran  the  dry 
channel  of  a  mountain  stream  —  the  continuation 
of  the  gully  that  cut  the  mountain-wall  from  top  to 
base  —  but  even  this  gap  was  high  enough  to  pre- 
vent observation  from  the  plain. 

No  horsemen  could  enter  the  cove  save  by  means 
of  that  low  trench,  cut  as  by  the  hand  of  man  in 
the  granite  hill,  and  as  Indian  horsemen  were  the 
only  enemies  to  be  dreaded,  his  watchfulness  need 
be  concentrated  only  on  that  one  point.  "  Noth- 
ing like  variety/'  observed  Willock  cheerfully. 
"  This  will  do  capital  for  my  summer  home!  I'm 
going  to  live  like  a  lord  —  while  I'm  living." 

He  examined  the  ground  and  found  that  it  was 
rich  and  could  be  penetrated  easily,  even  to  the 
the  very  foot  of  the  mountain.  "  I'll  just  get  my 


52  LAHOMA 

spade,"  he  remarked,  "as  I  ain't  got  nothing  else 
to  do."  In  deliberate  slowness  he  returned  up  the 
divide,  and  got  the  spade  from  his  retreat,  then 
brought  it  to  the  cove.  Selecting  a  spot  near  the 
channel  of  the  dried-up  torrent,  he  began  to  dig, 
relieved  to  find  that  he  did  not  strike  rock. 

"  I  guess,"  he  said,  stopping  to  lean  on  his  spade, 
as  he  stared  at  the  mountain,  "the  earth  just  got 
too  full  of  granite  and  biled  over,  but  was  keerful 
to  spew  it  upwards,  so's  to  save  as  much  ground  as 
it  could,  while  relieving  its  feelings." 

Presently  the  earth  on  his  blade  began  to  cling 
'from  dampness.  "When  I  digs  a  well,"  he  re- 
marked boastingly,  "what  I  want  is  water,  and 
that's  what  I  gets.  As  soon  as  it's  deep  enough 
I'll  wall  her  up  with  rocks  and  take  the  longest 
'drink  that  man  ever  pulled  off,  that  is  to  say,  when 
if  was  nothing  but  common  water.  They  ain't 
nothing  about  water  to  incite  you  to  keep  swallowing 
when  you  have  enough.  Of  a  sudden  you  just 
naturally  leggo  and  could  drown  in  it  without  want- 
ing another  drop.  That's  because  it's  nature.  Art 
is  different.  I  reckon  a  nice  clean  drinking-joint 
and  a  full-stocked  bar  is  about  the  highest,  art  that 
can  stimulate  a  man.  But  in  nature,  you  know 
when  you've  got  enough." 


A  MYSTERIOUS  GUEST  53 

After  further  digging  he  added,  "And  I  got 
about  enough  of  this!  I  mean  the  mountains  and 
the  plains  and  the  sand  and  the  wind  and  the  cave 
and  the  cove  —  "he  wiped  away  the  dripping  sweat 
and  looked  at  the  sun.  "  Yes,  and  of  you,  too! " 
He  dropped  the  spade,  and  sat  down  on  the  heap 
of  dirt.  "Oh,  Lord,  but  I'm  lonesome!  I  got 
plenty  to  say,  but  nobody  to  listen  at  me." 

He  clasped  his  great  hands  about  his  knee,  and 
stared  sullenly  at  the  surrounding  ramparts  of  red 
and  brown  granite,  dully  noting  the  fantastic  layers, 
the  huge  round  stones  that  for  ages  had  been  about 
to  roll  down  into  the  valley  but  had  never  started, 
and  others  cut  in  odd  shapes  placed  one  upOi.  an- 
other in  columns  along  the  perpendicular  wall.  The 
sun  beat  on  tHe  long  matted  hair  of  his  bared  head, 
but  the  ceaseless  wind  brought  relief  from  its  pelt- 
ing rays.  He,  however,  was  conscious  neither  of 
the  heat  nor  of  the  refreshing  touch. 

At  last  he  rose  slowly  to  his  towering  legs  and 
picked  up  the  spade.  "You're  a  fool,  Brick  Wil- 
lock,"  he  said  harshly.  "Ain't  you  got  that  well 
to  dig?  And  then  can't  you  go  for  your  kaig  and 
bring  it  here,  and  carry  it  back  full  of  fresh  water  ? 
Dinged  if  there  ain't  enough  doings  in  your  world 
to  furnish  out  a  daily  newspaper ! "  He  began  to 


'54  LAHOMA 

dig,  adding  in  an  altered  tone:  "And  Brick,  he 
savs  —  *  Nothing  ain't  come  to  the  worst,  as  long 
as  you're  living/  says  Brick !  " 

He  was  proud  of  the  well  when  it  was  completed; 
the  water  was  cold  and  soft  as  it  oozed  up  through 
clean  sand,  and  the  walls  of  mud-mortised  rocks 
promised  permanency.  One  did  not  have  to  pene- 
trate far  into  the  bottom-lands  of  that  cove  to  find 
water  which  for  unnumbered  years  had  rushed  down 
the  mountainside  in  time  of  rain-storms  to  lie,  a 
vast  underground  reservoir,  for  the  coming  of  man. 
Willock  could  reach  the  surface  of  the  well  by  ly- 
ing on  his  stomach  and  scooping  with  his  long  arm. 
He  duly  carried  out  his  program,  and  when  the 
keg  was  filled  with  fresh  water,  it  was  time  for 
dinner. 

After  a  cold  luncheon  of  sliced  boiled  ham  and 
baker's  bread,  he  returned  to  the  cove,  where  he 
idled  away  the  afternoon  under  the  shade  of  tall 
cedar  trees  whose  branches  came  down  to  the 
ground,  forming  impenetrable  pyramids  of  green. 

Stretched  out  on  the  short  buffalo-grass  he 
watched  the  white  flecks  follow  one  another  across 
the  sky ;  he  observed  the  shadows  lengthening  from 
the  base  of  the  western  arm  of  the  horseshoe  till  they 
threatened  to  swallow  up  him  and  his  bright  speck 


A  MYSTERIOUS  GUEST  55 

of  world;  he  looked  languidly  after  the  flights  of 
birds,  and  grinned  as  he  saw  the  hawks  dart  into 
round  holes  in  the  granite  wall  not  much  larger  than 
their  bodies  —  those  mysterious  holes  perforating 
the  precipice,  seemingly  bored  there  by  a  giant 
auger. 

"  Go  to  bed,  pards,"  he  called  to  the  hawks.  "  I 
reckon  it's  time  for  me,  too !  "  He  got  up  —  the  sun 
had  disappeared  behind  the  mountain.  He  stretched 
himself,  lifting  his  arms  high  above  his  head  and 
slowly  drawing  his  fists  to  his  shoulder,  his  elbows 
luxuriously  crooked.  "  One  thing  I  got,"  he  ob- 
served, "  is  room,  plenty !  Well  —  "  he  started  to- 
ward the  divide  for  his  upward  climb,  "  I've  lived 
a  reasonable  long  life;  I  am  forty-five;  but  I  do 
think  that  since  I  laid  down  under  that  tree,  I  have 
thought  of  everything  I  ever  done  or  said  since 
I  was  a  kid.  Guess  I'll  save  the  future  for  another 
afternoon  —  and  after  that,  the  Lord  knows  what 
I'm  going  to  do  with  my  brain,  it's  that  busy." 

The  next  day  he  began  assorting  the  contents  of 
his  granite  home,  moving  to  the  task  with  consci- 
entious slowness,  stopping  a*  dozen  times  to  make 
excursions  into  the  outside  world.  By  diligent 
economy  of  his  working  moments,  he  succeeded 
in  covering  almost  two  weeks  in  the  labor  of  put- 


56  LAHOMA 

ting  his  house  into  order.  His  bedroom  was  next 
to  the  barricade  that  separated  the  long  stone  ex- 
cavation from  the  bottomless  abyss.  Divided  from 
the  bedroom  by  an  imaginary  line,  was  the  store- 
room of  provisions.  The  cans  and  boxes  were  ar- 
ranged along  the  floor  with  methodical  exactitude. 
Different  varieties  of  fruit  and  preserves  were  in- 
terspersed in  such  fashion  that  none  was  repeated 
until  every  variety  had  been  passed. 

"  I  begins  with  this  can  of  peaches,"  said  Wil- 
lock,  laying  his  finger  upon  the  beginning  of  the 
row  — "  then  comes  apples,  pears,  plums ;  then 
peaches,  apples,  pears,  plums;  then  peaches,  apples, 
pears,  plums;  then  peaches  —  blest  if  I  don't  feel 
myself  getting  sick  of  'em  already.  .  .  .  And 
now  my  meats:  bacon,  ham.  My  breadstuffs: 
loaves,  crackers.  My  fillers:  sardines,  more  sar- 
dines, more  sardines,  likewise  canned  tomatoes. 
Let  me  see  —  is  it  too  much  to  say  that  I  eats  a 
can  of  preserves  in  two  days?  Maybe  three. 
That  is,  till  I  sickens.  I  begins  with  peach-day. 
This  is  Monday.  Say  Thursday  begins  my  apple- 
days.  I  judge  I  can  worm  myself  down  through 
the  list  by  this  time  next  month.  One  thing  I  am 
sot  on:  not  to  save  nothing  if  I  can  bring  my 
stomach  to  carry  the  burden  witH  a  willing  hand. 


A  MYSTERIOUS  GUEST  57; 

I'll  eat  mild  and  calm,  but  steadfast.  Brick  Wil- 
lock  he  says,  'Better  starve  all  at  once,  when 
there's  nothing  left,  than  starve  a  little  every  day/ 
says  Brick.  'When  it's  a  matter  of  agony/  says 
he,  '  take  the  short  cut.'  " 

In  arranging  his  retreat,  he  had  left  undisturbed 
the  wagon-tongue,  since  removing  it  from  the  end 
of  the  floor  for  a  more  secure  barricade;  it  had  stood 
with  several  of  the  sideboards  against  the  wall,  as  if 
Brick  meditated  using  them  for  a  special  purpose. 
Such  was  indeed  his  plan,  and  it  added  some  zest 
to  his  present  employment  to  think  of  what  he 
meant  to  do  next;  this  was  nothing  less  than  to 
make  a  dugout  in  the  cove. 

To  this  enterprise  he  was  prompted  not  only  by 
a  desire  to  vary  his  monotonous  days,  but  to  insure 
safety  from  possible  foes.  Should  a  skulking  sav- 
age, or,  what  would  be  worse,  a  stray  member  of  the 
robber  band  catch  sight  of  him  among  the  hills, 
the  spy  would  spread  the  news  among  his  fellows. 
A  relentless  search  would  be  instituted,  and  even 
if  Willock  succeeded  in  escaping,  the  band  would 
not  rest  till  it  had  discovered  his  hiding-place.  If 
they  came  on  the  dugout,  their  search  would  ter- 
minate, and  his  home  in  the  crevice  would  escape  in- 
vestigation; but  if  there  was  no  dugout  to  satisfy 


58  LAHOMA1 

curiosity,  the  crevice  would  most  probably  be  ex- 
plored. 

"  Two  homes  ain't  too  many  for  a  character  like 
me,  nohow,"  remarked  Brick,  as  he  set  the  wagon- 
tongue  and  long  boards  on  end  to  be  drawn  up 
through  the  crevice.  "  Cold  weathor  will  be  coming 
on  in  due  time  —  say  three  or  four  months  —  and 
what's  that  to  me?  a  mere  handful  of  time!  Well, 
I  don't  never  expect  to  make  a  fire  in  my  cave, 
I'll  set  my  smoke  out  in  the  open  where  it  can 
be  traced  without  danger  to  my  pantry  shelves." 

He  was  even  slower  about  building  the  dugout 
than  he  had  been  in  arranging  the  miscellaneous  ob- 
jects in  the  cavern  on  top  of  the  mountain.  Trans- 
porting the  timbers  across  a  mile  of  ridges  and  gran- 
ite troughs  was  no  light  work;  and  when  his  tools 
and  material  were  in  the  cove,  the  digging  of  the 
dugout  was  protracted  because  of  the  closeness  of 
water  to  the  surface.  At  last  he  succeeded  in  ex- 
cavating the  cellar  at  a  spot  within  a  few  yards 
of  the  mountain,  without  penetrating  moistened 
sand.  He  leveled  down  the  walls  till  he  had  a 
chamber  about  twelve  feet  square.  Over  this  he 
placed  the  wagon-tongue,  converting  it  into  the 
ridge-pole,  which  he  set  upon  forks  cut  from  the 
near-by  cedars.  Having  trimmed  branches  of  the 


A  MYSTERIOUS  GUEST  59 

trees  in  the  grove,  he  laid  them  as  close  together  as 
possible,  slanting  from  the  ridge-pole  to  the  ground, 
and  over  these  laid  the  bushy  cedar  branches.  This 
substantial  roof  he  next  covered  with  dirt,  heaping 
it  up  till  no  glimpse  of  wood  was  visible  under  the 
hard-packed  dome.  The  end  of  the  dugout  was 
closed  up  in  the  same  way  except  for  a  hole  near 
the  top  fitted  closely  to  the  stovepipe  and  packed 
with  mud. 

Of  the  sideboards  he  fashioned  a  rude  frame,  then 
a  door  to  stand  in  it,  fitted  into  grooves  that  it 
might  be  pushed  and  held  into  place  without  hinges. 
"Of  course  I  got  to  take  down  my  door  every 
time  I  comes  in  or  out,"  remarked  Willock,  regard- 
ing his  structure  with  much  complacency,  "but 
they's  nothing  else  to  do,  and  I  got  to  be  occupied." 

When  he  had  transported  the  stove  to  the  cove, 
he  set  it  up  with  a  tingle  of  expectant  pleasure.  It 
was  to  be  his  day  of  housewarming,  not  because 
the  weather  had  grown  cold,  but  that  he  might  cele- 
brate. 

"  This  here,"  he  said,  "  is  to  be  a  red-letter  day, 
a  day  plumb  up  in  X,  Y  and  Z.  I  got  to  take  my 
gun  and  forage  for  some  game ;  then  I'll  dress  my 
fresh  meat  and  have  a  cooking.  I'll  bring  over 
some  grub  to  keep  it  company.  Let's  see  —  this  is 


60  LAHOMA 

plum-day,  ain't  it?"  He  stood  meditating,  strok- 
ing his  wild  whiskers  with  a  grimy  hand.  "  Oh, 
Lord,  yes,  I  believe  it  is  plum-day!  'Well,  they 
ain't  nothing  the  way  you  would  have  made  it  your- 
self/ says  Brick,  '  not  even  though  it's  you  as  made 
it/  This  here  is  plum-day,  and  that  there  can  of 
plums  will  shore  be  opened.  And  having  my  first 
fire  gives  me  a  chance  to  open  up  my  sack  of  flour ; 
won't  I  hold  carnival!  'What  I  feels  sorry  about 
myself  is  knowing  how  I'm  going  to  feel  after  I've 
et  all  them  victuals.  I  believe  I'll  take  a  bath,  too, 
in  that  pool  over  yonder  in  the  grove.  Ain't  I  ever 
going  to  use  that  there  soap?  .  .  .  But  I  don't  say 
as  I  will.  Don't  seem  wuth  while.  They  ain't  no- 
body to  see  me,  and  I  feels  clean  insides.  As  I 
takes  it,  you  do  your  washing  for  them  as  neighbors 
with  you.  If  I  had  a  neighbor!  —  just  a  dog,  a 
little  yaller  dog  —  or  some  chickens  to  crow  and 
cackle—" 

He  broke  off,  to  lean  despondently  on  his  gun. 
He  remained  thus  motionless  for  a  long  time,  his 
earth-stained  garments,  unkempt  hair,  hard  dark 
hands  and  gloomy  eye  marking  him  as  the  only 
object  in  the  bright  sunshine  standing  forth  un- 
responsive to  nature's  smile. 

He  started  into  life  with  a  shrug  of  his  powerful 


A  MYSTERIOUS  GUEST  61 

shoulders.  "It's  just  like  you,  Brick,  to  spoil  a 
festibul-day  with  your  low  idees!  Why  don't  you 
keep  them  idees  for  a  rainy  day  ?  Just  lay  up  them 
regrets  and  hankerings  for  the  first  rainy  day,  and 
then  be  of  a  piece  with  the  heavens  and  earth.  '  If 
you  can't  stay  cheerful  while  the  sun's  shining,'  says 
Brick,  '  God's  wasting  a  mighty  nice  big  sun  on 
you! ' " 

Thus  admonishing  himself,  and  striving  desper- 
ately for  contentment,  he  strode  forth  from  the  only 
exit  of  the  cove,  and  skirted  the  southern  wall  of 
the  range,  looking  for  game.  It  was  late  in  the 
afternoon  when  he  returned  with  the  best  portions 
of  a  deer  swung  over  his  shoulder.  By  this  time  he 
was  desperately  hungry,  and  the  prospect  of  the 
first  venison  since  his  exile  stirred  his  pulses,  and 
gave  to  the  bright  scene  a  cheerful  beauty  it  had  not 
before  worn  to  his  homesick  heart.  He  trudged  up 
to  the  narrow  door  of  the  dugout  which  was  closed, 
just  as  he  had  left  it,  and  having  carried  a  noble 
haunch  of  venison  to  the  pool  to  be  washed,  he 
descended  the  dirt  steps  and  set  the  door  to  one  side. 
Without  at  first  understanding  why,  he  became  in- 
stantly aware  that  some  one  had  been  there  during 
his  absence. 

Of  course,  as  soon  as  his  eyes  could  penetrate  the 


62  LAHOMA 

semi-gloom  sufficiently  to  distinguish  small  objects, 
he  saw  the  proof;  but  even  before  that,  the  air 
seemed  tingling  with  some  strange  personality.  He 
stood  like  a  statue,  gazing  fixedly.  His  alert  eyes, 
always  on  guard,  had  assured  him  that  the  cove  was 
deserted  —  there  was  no  use  to  look  behind  him. 
Whoever  had  been  there  must  have  scaled  the 
mountain,  and  had  either  crossed  to  the  plain  on  the 
north,  or  was  hiding  behind  the  rocks.  What  held 
his  eyes  to  the  stove  was  a  heap  of  tobacco,  and  a 
clay  pipe  beside  it.  Among  the  stores  removed 
from  the  wagon,  tobacco  had  been  found  in  gener- 
ous quantity,  but  during  the  month  now  elapsed, 
had  been  sadly  reduced.  Willock,  however,  was 
not  pleased  to  find  the  new  supply;  on  the  contrary 
his  emotions  were  confused  and  alarmed.  Had  the 
tobacco  been  ten  times  as  much,  it  could  not  have 
solaced  him  for  the  knowledge  that  the  dugout  had 
been  visited. 

After  a  few  minutes  of  immobility,  he  entered, 
placed  the  meat  on  a  box,  and  departed  softly, 
closing  the  door  behind  him.  Casting  apprehensive 
glances  along  the  mountainside,  he  stole  toward  it, 
and  made  his  way  up  the  gully,  completely  hidden 
by  the  straggling  line  of  trees  and  underbrush,  till 
he  stood  on  the  summit.  He  approached  each  ridge 


A  MYSTERIOUS  GUEST  63 

.with  extreme  caution,  as  if  about  to  storm  the  bar- 
ricade of  an  enemy;  thus  he  traveled  over  the  range 
without  coming  on  the  traces  of  his  mysterious 
visitor.  Not  pausing  at  the  crevice,  he  went  on  to 
the  outer  northern  ridge  of  the  range,  and  lying 
flat  among  some  high  rocks,  looked  down. 

He  counted  seventeen  men  near  the  spot  from 
which  he  had  removed  the  wagon.  Fifteen  were  on 
horseback  and  two  riderless  horses  explained  the 
presence  of  the  two  on  foot.  All  of  them  had 
drawn  up  in  a  circle  about  the  heap  of  stones  that 
covered  the  woman's  burial-place.  Of  the  seven- 
teen, sixteen  were  Indians,  painted  and  adorned  for 
the  war-path.  The  remaining  man,  he  who  stood  at 
the  heap  of  stones  beside  the  chief,  was  a  white  man, 
and  at  the  first  glance,  Willock  recognized  him;  he 
was  the  dead  woman's  husband,  Henry  Gledware. 

Brick's  mind  was  perplexed  with  vain  question- 
ings :  Was  it  Gledware  who  had  visited  his  dugout, 
or  the  Indians?  Did  the  pipe  and  tobacco  indicate 
a  peace-offering?  What  was  the  relationship  be- 
tween Gledware  and  these  Indians?  Was  he  their 
prisoner,  and  were  they  about  to  burn  him  upon  the 
heap  of  stones?  He  did  not  seem  alarmed.  Had 
he  made  friends  with  the  chief  by  promising  to 
conduct  him  to  the  deserted  wagon?  If  so,  what 


64  LAHOMA 

would  they  think  in  regard  to  the  wagon's  disap- 
pearance? Had  the  dugout  persuaded  them  that 
there  was  no  other  retreat  in  the  mountains  ? 

While  Brick  watched  in  agitated  suspense,  several 
Indians  .leaped  to  the  ground  at  a  signal  from  the 
chief  and  advanced  toward  the  white  man.  The 
chief  turned  his  back  upon  the  company,  and  started 
toward  the  mountain,  his  face  turned  toward  Brick's 
place  of  observation.  He  began  climbing  upward, 
the  red  feather  in  his  hair  gleaming  against  the  green 
of  the  cedars.  Brick  had  but  to  remain  where  he 
was,  to  reach  forth  his  hand  presently  and  seize  the 
warrior  —  but  in  that  case,  those  on  the  plain  would 
come  swarming  up  the  ascent  for  vengeance. 

Brick  darted  from  his  post,  swept  like  a  dipping 
swallow  across  the  ravine,  and  snatching  up  the  rope- 
ladder  from  its  nook  under  the  boulder,  scurried 
down  into  the  granite  chamber.  Having  removed 
the  ladder,  he  crept  to  the  extremity  of  the  excava- 
tion, and  with  his  back  against  the  wall  and  his 
gun  held  in  readiness,  awaited  the  coming  of  the 
chief.  After  the  lapse  of  many  minutes  he  grew? 
reassured ;  the  Indian,  thinking  the  dugout  h is  only 
home,  had  passed  the  crevice  without  the  slightest 
suspicion. 

However,  lest  in  thrusting  forth  his  head,  he  call 


A  MYSTERIOUS  GUEST  65 

attention  to  his  home  in  the  rock,  he  kept  in  retreat 
the  rest  of  that  day,  nor  did  he  venture  forth  that 
night.  After  all,  the  housewarming  did  not  take 
place.  The  stove  remained  cold,  the  tobacco  and 
pipe  upon  it  were  undisturbed,  and  the  evening 
meal  consisted  notably  of  plums. 


CHAPTER  VHI 

f 

RED  FEATHER 

ONE  bright  warm  afternoon  in  October  two 
years  later,  Brick  Willock  sat  smoking  his  pipe 
before  the  open  door  of  his  dugout,  taking  ad- 
vantage of  the  mountain-shadow  that  had  just 
reached  that  spot.  In  repose,  he  always  sat,  when 
in  the  cove,  with  his  face  toward  the  natural  road- 
way leading  over  the  flat  hill-island  into  the  farther 
reach  of  the  horseshoe.  It  was  thus  he  hoped  to 
prevent  surprise  from  inimical  horsemen,  and  it  was 
thus  that,  on  this  particular  afternoon,  he  detected 
a  shadow  creeping  over  the  reddish-brown  stone 
passage  before  its  producing  cause  rode  suddenly 
against  the  background  of  the  blue  sky. 

At  first  glimpse  of  that  shadow  of  a  feathered 
head,  Willock  flung  himself  down  the  dirt  steps  lead- 
ing to  the  open  door ;  now,  lying  flat,  he  directed  the 
barrel  of  his  gun  over  the  edge  of  the  level  ground, 
covering  an  approaching  horseman.  As  only  one 
Indian  came  into  view,  and  as  this  Indian  was  armed 

in  a  manner  as  astounding  as  it  was  irresistible, 

66 


RED  FEATHER  67 

Willock  rose  to  his  height  of  six-foot-three,  lowered 
his  weapon,  and  advanced  to  meet  him. 

When  he  was  near,  the  Indian  —  the  same  chief 
from  whom  Willock  had  fled  on  the  day  of  his 
intended  housewarming  —  this  Indian  sprang 
lightly  to  the  ground,  and  lifted  from  the  horse  that 
defense  which  he  had  borne  in  front  of  him  on  pene- 
trating the  cove;  it  was  the  child  for  whose  sake 
Willock  had  separated  himself  from  his  kind. 

At  first,  Willock  thought  he  was  dreaming  one  of 
those  dreams  that  had  solaced  his  half- waking  hours, 
for  he  had  often  imagined  how  it  would  be  if  that 
child  were  in  the  mountains  to  bear  him  company. 
But  however  doubtful  he  might  be  regarding  her,  he 
took  no  chances  about  the  Indian,  but  kept  his  alert 
gaze  fixed  on  him  to  forestall  any  design  of 
treachery. 

The  Indian  made  a  sign  to  the  little  girl  to  remain 
with  the  horse;  then  he  glided  forward,  holding 
somewhat  ostentatiously,  a  filled  pipe  in  his  extended 
hand.  He  had  evidently  come  to  knit  his  soul  to 
that  of  his  white  brother  while  the  smoke  from  their 
pipes  mingled  on  the  quiet  air,  forming  a  frail  and 
uncertain  monument  to  the  spirit  of  peace. 

"  Was  it  you  that  left  a  pipe  and  tobacco  on  my 
stove  two  years  ago?  "  Willock  asked  abruptly. 


68  LAHOMA 

"Yes.  You  got  it?  We  will  smoke."  He 
seated  himself  gravely  on  the  ground. 

Willock  went  into  the  cabin,  and  brought  out  the 
clay  pipe.  They  smoked.  Willock  cast  covert 
glances  toward  the  girl.  She  stood  slim  and 
straight,  her  face  rigid,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  horse 
whose  halter  she  held.  Her  limbs  were  bare  and  a 
blanket  that  descended  to  her  knees  seemed  her  only 
garment.  The  face  of  the  sleeping  child  of  five  was 
the  same,  however,  as  this  of  the  seven-year-old 
maid,  except  that  it  had  grown  more  beautiful ;  the 
wealth  of  glowing  brown  hair  made  amends  for  all 
poverty  of  attire. 

Willock  was  wonderfully  moved;  so  much  so  that 
his  manner  was  harsh,  his  voice  gruff  in  the  extreme. 
"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  that  girl  ?  "  he 
demanded. 

"  You  take  her  ?  "  inquired  the  chief  passively. 

«yes  — I  take  her." 

"  Good !  "     The  Indian  smoked  serenely. 

"Where'd  you  find  her?"  / 

"  Not  been  lost.  Her  safe  all  time.  Sometime 
in  one  village  —  here,  then  there,  two,  three — > 
move  her  about.  Safe  all  time.  I  never  forget 
There  she  is.  You  take  her?" 

*  I  said  so,  didn't  I  ?    Where's  her  daddy  ?  " 


RED  FEATHER  69 

The  Indian  said  nothing,  only  smoked,  his  eyes 
fixed  on  space. 

Willock  raised  his  voice.  ;< '  Must  I  ask  her  where 
he  is?" 

"Her  not  know.  Her  not  seen  him  one,  two 
year.  She  say  him  dead." 

"Oh,  he's  dead,  is  he?" 

"Him  safe,  too."  He  looked  at  the  sun. 
"  Long  trail  before  me.  Then  I  leave  her.  I  go, 


now." 


"  Not  much  you  don't  go !  Not  this  minute. 
Where  is  that  girl's  daddy?  " 

No  answer. 

"  If  he's  safe,  why  hasn't  she  been  with  him  all 
this  time?" 

"  Me  big  chief." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  judge  you  are.  But  that's  nothing 
to  me.  I'm  big  chief,  too.  I  own  this  corner  of 
the  universe  —  and  I  want  to  know  about  that  girl's 
daddy." 

"  Him  great  man." 

«  Well  — go  ahead;  tell  the  rest  of  it." 

"  Him  settle  among  my  tribe ;  him  never  leave 
our  country.  Big  country,  fat  country,  very  rich. 
Him  change  name  —  everything;  him  one  of  us. 
Marry  my  daughter. '  That  girl  not  his  daughter  — 


70  LAHOMA 

daughter  of  dead  woman.  Keep  her  away  from  him 
all  time  so  him  never  see  white  man,  white  woman, 
white  child,  forget  white  people,  be  good  Indian. 
The  girl  make  him  think  of  dead  woman.  When  a 
man  marry  again,  not  good  to  remember  dead 
woman.  Him  think  girl  dead,  but  no  care,  no 
worry,  no  sad.  She  never  his  daughter  —  dead 
woman's  daughter.  All  his  path  is  white,  no  more 
blue.  Him  very  glad,  every  day  —  my  daughter 
his  wife.  She  keep  scalp-knife  from  his  head.  My 
braves  capture  —  they  dance  about  fire,  she  say 
'  No/  She  marry  him.  Their  path  is  white ;  the 
sky  over  them  is  white." 

He  rose,  straight  as  an  arrow,  and  turned  his 
grim  face  toward  the  horse. 

"  I  see.  And  you  don't  want  to  tell  me  where  he 
is,  because  you  want  him  to  forget  he  is  a  white 
man?"  f 

"  Him  always  live  with  my  people ;  him  marry 
my  daughter." 

"  Tell  me  this ;  is  He  'far  away  ?  " 

"  Very  far.  Many  'days.  [You  never  find  him. 
You  stay  here,  keep  girl,  and  me  and  my  people 
your  friends.  You  come  after  him  —  not  your 
friends!" 

"  Why,  bless  your  heart,  I  never  want  to  see  that 


RED  FEATHER  711 

man  again;  your  daughter  is  welcome  to  him,  but 
I'm  afraid  she's  got  a  bad  bargain.  This  girl's  just 
as  I'd  have  her  —  unencumbered.  I'm  awful  glad 
you  come,  pardner!  Whenever  you  happen  to  be 
down  in  this  part  of  Texas,  drop  in  and  make  us  a 
visit!" 

With  every  passing  moment,  Willock  was  realiz- 
ing more  keenly  what  this  amazing  sequel  to  the 
past  meant  to  him.  He  would  not  only  have  com- 
pany in  his  dreary  solitude>  but,  of  all  company,  the 
very  one  he  yearned  for  to  comfort  his  heart. 
"  Give  us  your  paw,  old  man  —  shake.  You  bet 
I'll  take  her!" 

He  strode  forward  and  addressed  the  girl :  "  Are 
you  willing  to  stay  with  me,  little  one?  " 

She  shrank  back  from  the  wild  figure.  During 
his  two  years  of  hiding  in  the  mountains,  Willock 
had  cared  nothing  for  his  personal  appearance. 
His  garments,  on  disintegrating  had  been  replaced 
by  skins,  thus  giving  an  aspect  of  assorted  colors 
and  materials  rather  remarkable.  Only  when 
driven  by  necessity  had  he  ventured  on  long  jour- 
neys to  the  nearest  food-station,  carrying  the  skins 
obtained  by  trapping,  and  bringing  back  fresh  stores 
of  provisions  and  tobacco  on  the  pony  purchased  by 
the  Spanish  gold. 


72  LAHOMA 

Willock  was  greatly  disconcerted  by  her  attitude. 
He  said  regretfully,  "I  guess  I've  been  so  much 
with  myself  that  I  ain't  noticed  my  outside  as  a 
man  ought.  Won't  you  make  your  home  with  me, 
child  ? "  He  held  out  his  rough  hand  appeal- 
ingly. 

She  retreated  farther,  saying  with  disapproval, 
"Much  hair!" 

Willock  laid  his  hand  on  his  breast,  returning, 
"Much  heart!" 

"  Him  white,"  said  the  Indian,  swinging  himself 
upon  his  horse.  "  Him  save  your  life.  Sometime 
me  come  visit,  come  eat,  come  stay  with  you." 

As  he  wheeled  about,  she  held  out  her  arms  to- 
ward him,  crying  wildly,  "  Don't  go !  Don't  leave 
me !  Him  much  hair ! " 

The  Indian  dashed  away  without  turning  his 
head. 

"  Good  lord,  honey,"  exclaimed  Willock,  at  his 
wits'  ends,  "don't  cry!  I  can't  do  nothing  if  you 
cry.  Won't  you  come  look  at  your  new  home?" 
He  waved  eagerly  toward  the  dugout. 

"  Hole  in  the  ground !  "  cried  the  girl  desperately. 
"I  want  my  tepee.  Am  I  a  prairie-dog?" 

"No,  honey,  you  ain't.  You  and  me  is  both 
white,  and  we  ought  to  live  together;  it  ain't  right 


RED  FEATHER  73, 

for  you  to  live  with  red  people  that  kills  and  burns 
your  own  kith  and  kin." 

She  looked  at  him  repellently  through  her  stream- 
ing tears.  "Big  hair!"  she  cried.  "Big  hair!" 

"  And  must  I  cut  it  off  ?  I'll  make  my  head  as 
smooth  as  yonder  bald-headed  mountain-peak  if 
it'll  keep  you  from  crying.  Course  you  ain't  seen 
nobody  with  whiskers  amongst  them  Indians,  but 
they  ain't  your  people.  Your  people  is  white,  they 
are  like  me,  they  grows  hair.  But  I'll  shave  and 
paint  myself  red,  and  hunt  for  feathers,  if  that's 
what  you  want." 

Her  sobbing  grew  less  violent.  Despite  his  fe- 
rocious aspect,  no  fear  could  remain  in  her  heart  at 
sight  of  that  distressed  countenance,  at  sound  of 
those  conciliatory  tones.  Willock,  observing  that 
the  tempest  was  abating,  continued  in  his  most  ap- 
pealing manner: 

"  I'm  going  to  do  whatever  you  say,  honey,  and 
you're  going  to  be  the  queen  of  the  cove.  Ain't 
you  never  been  lonesome  amongst  all  them  red 
devils?  Ain't  you  missed  your  poor  mammy  as 
died  crossing  the  plains?  It  was  me  that  buried 
her.  Ain't  you  never  knowed  how  it  felt  to  want 
to  lay  your  head  on  somebody's  shoulder  and  slip 
your  little  arms  about  his  neck,  and  go  to  sleep 


74  LAHOMA 

like  an  angel  whatever  was  happening  around?  I 
guess  so!  Well,  that's  me,  too.  Here  I've  been 
for  two  long  year,  never  seeing  nothing  but  wild 
animals  or  prowling  savages  till  the  last  few  months 
when  a  settler  comes  to  them  mountains  seven  mile 
to  the  southwest.  Looked  like  I'd  die,  sometimes, 
just  having  myself  to  entertain." 

"You  lonesome,  too?"  said  the  girl,  looking  up 
incredulously.  She  drew  a  step  nearer,  a  wistful 
light  in  her  dark  eyes. 

The  man  stretched  out  his  arms  and  dropped 
them  to  his  side,  heavily.  "  Like  that/'  he  cried  — 
"  just  emptiness !  " 

"  I  stay,"  she  said  simply.  "  All  time,  want  my 
own  people;  all  time,  Red  Feather  say  some  day 
take  me  to  white  people  —  want  to  go,  all  time. 
But  Red  Feather  never  tell  me  '  Big  Hair/  Didn't 
know  what  it  was  I  was  looking  for  —  never 
thought  it  would  be  something  like  you." 

"  But  you  ain't  afraid  now,  are  you,  little  one  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head,  and  drawing  nearer,  seated 
herself  on  the 'ground  before  the  dugout.  ""  You 
look  Big  Hair,"  she  explained  sedately,  "  but  your 
speech  is  talk  of  weak  squaw." 

Somewhat  disconcerted  by  these  words,  Willock 
sat  down  opposite  her,  and  resumed  his  pipe  as  if 


RED  FEATHER  75 

to  assert  his  sex.  "  I  seem  weak  to  you,"  he  ex- 
plained, "  because  I  love  you,  child,  and  want  to 
make  friends  with  you.  But  let  me  meet  a  big 
man  —  well,  you'd  see,  then ! "  He  looked  so 
ferocious  as  he  uttered  these  words,  that  she  started 
up  like  a  frightened  quail,  grasping  her  blanket  about 
her. 

"  No,  no,  honey,"  he  cooed  abjectly,  "  I  wouldn't 
hurt  a  fly.  Me,  I  was  always  a  byword  amongst 
my  pards.  They'd  say,  '  There  goes  Brick  Willock, 
what  never  harmed  nobody/  When  they  kept  me 
in  at  school  I  never  dumb  out  the  window,  and  it 
was  me  got  all  the  prize  cards  at  Sunday-school. 
How  comes  it,  honey,  that  you  ain't  forgot  to  talk 
like  civilized  beings?  " 

.  "  Red  Feather,  him  always  put  me  with  squaw 
that  know  English  —  that  been  to  school  on  the 
reservation.  Never  let  me  learn  talk  like  the  In- 
dians. Him  always  say  some  day  take  me  to  my 
own  people.  But  never  said  ' Big  Hair' " 

"Did  he  tell  you  your  mother  died  two  years 
ago?" 

"Yes  —  father,  him  dead,  too.  Both  died  in 
the  plains.  Father  was  shot  by  robbers.  Mother 
was  left  in  big  wagon  —  you  bury  her  near  this 
mountain." 


76  LAHOMA 

"  Oh,  ho !  So  your  father  was  killed  at  the 
same  time  your  mother  was,  eh  ?  " 

"  Yes," 

"  Well  —  all  right.  And  now  you  got  nobody 
but  me  to  look  after  you  —  but  you  don't  need  no 
more;  as  long  as  I'm  able  to  be  up  and  about, 
nothing  is  going  to  hurt  you.  Just  you  tell  me 
what  you  want,  and  it'll  be  did." 

"  Want  to  be  all  like  white  people ;  want  to  be 
just  like  mother." 

"  Well,  I'll  teach  you  as  fur  up  as  I've  been  my- 
self. Your  style  of  talk  ain't  correct,  but  it  was 
the  best  Red  Feather  could  do  by  you.  Him  and 
you  lay  down  your  words  like  stepping-stones  for 
your  thoughts  to  step  over;  but  just  listen  at  me, 
how  smooth  and  fine-textured  my  language  is,  with 
no  breaks  or  crevices  from  the  beginning  of  my 
periods  to  where  my  voice  steps  down  to  start  on  a 
lower  ledge.  That's  the  way  white  people  talks, 
not  that  they  got  more  to  say  than  Injuns,  but 
they  fills  in,  and  embodies  everything,  like  filling 
up  cabin-walls  with  mud.  I'll  take  you  by  the 
hand  right  from  where  Red  Feather  left  you,  and. 
carry  you  up  the  heights." 

She  examined  him  dubiously :  "  You  know 
how?" 


RED  FEATHER  77 

"  I  ain't  no  bell-wether  in  the  paths  of  learning, 
honey,  but  Red  Feather  is  some  miles  behind  me. 
What's  your  name  ?  " 

"  Lahoma." 

"Born  that  way,  or  Injunized?" 

"  Father  before  he  died,  him  all  time  want  to  go 
settle  in  the  Oklahoma  country  —  settle  on  a  claim 
with  mother.  They  go  there  two  times  —  three — > 
but  soldiers  all  time  make  them  go  back  to  Kansas. 
So  me,  I  was  born  and  they  named  me  Oklahoma  -7- 
but  all  time  they  call  me  Lahoma.  That  I  must 
be  called,  Lahoma  because  that  father  and  mother 
all  time  call  me.  Lahoma,  that  my  name."  She 
inquired  anxiously,  "  You  call  me  Lahoma?  "  She 
leaned  forward,  hands  upon  knees,  in  breathless 
anxiety. 

"  You  bet  your  life  I  will,  Lahoma!" 

"  Then  me  stay  all  time  with  you  —  all  time. 
And  you  teach  me  talk  right,  and  dress  right,  and 
be  like  mother  and  my  white  people?  You  teacfr 
me  all  that?" 

"  That's  the  program.  I'm  going  to  civilize  you 
—  that  means  to  make  you  like  white  folks.  It's 
going  to  take  time,  but  the  mountains  is  full  of 
time." 

"  You  '  civilize  '  me  right  now  ?  —  You  begin  to-. 


78  LAHOMA 

day  ?  "  She  started  up  and  stood  erect  with  arms 
folded,  evidently  waiting  for  treatment. 

"  The  process  will  be  going  on  all  the  while  you're 
associating  with  me,  honey.  That  chief,  Red 
Feather  —  he  has  a  daughter,  hasn't  he?" 

"  No;  him  say  no  girl,  no  boy."  She  spoke  with 
confidence. 

"I  see.  And  your  father's  dead  too,  eh?" 
Evidently  Red  Feather  had  thoroughly  convinced 
her  of  the  truth  of  these  pretenses. 

"Both  —  mother,  father.  Nobody  but  me." 
She  knelt  down  at  his  side,  her  face  troubled.  "If 
I  had  just  one ! " 

"Can  you  remember  either  of  them?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes  —  and  Red  Feather,  him  talk  about 
them,  talk,  talk,  always  say  me  be  white  with  the 
white  people  some  day.  This  is  the  day.  You 
make  me  like  mother  was.  You  civilize  me  —  be- 
gin ! "  She  regarded  him  with  dignified  attention, 
her  little  hands  locked  about  her  blanket  where  it 
lay  folded  below  her  knees.  'The  cloud  had  van- 
ished from  her  face  and  her  eyes  sparkled  with 
expectancy. 

"  I  ain't  got  the  tools  yet,  honey.  They's  no 
breaking  up  and  enriching  land  that  ain't  never  bore 
nothing  but  buffalo-grass,  without  I  have  picks  and 


RED  FEATHER  79 

spades  and  plows  and  harrers.  I  got  to  get  my 
tools,  to  begin." 

She  stiffened  herself.  "You  needn't  be  afraid 
1*11  cry.  I  want  you  to  hurt  me,  if  that  the  way." 

"  It  ain't  like  a  pain  in  the  stomach,  Lahoma. 
All  I  gets  for  you  will  be  some  books.  Them 
is  the  tools  I'm  going  to  operate  with." 

"Books?     What  are  books?" 

"  Books  ? "  Willock  rubbed  his  bushy  head  in 
desperation.  "  Books?  Why,  they  is  just  thoughts 
that  somebody  has  ketched  and  put  in  a  cage  where 
they  can't  get  away.  You  go  and  look  at  them 
thoughts  somebody  capable  has  give  rise  to,  and 
when  you  finds  them  as  has  never  ranged  in  your 
own  brain,  you  captures  'em,  puts  your  brand  on 
'em,  and  serves  'em  out  in  your  own  herd.  You 
see,  Lahoma,  what  you  think  in  your  own  brain 
ain't  of  no  service,  for  you  don't  know  nothing. 
If  you  want  to  be  civilized,  you  got  to  lasso  other 
people's  thoughts  —  people  as  has  went  to  and  fro 
and  has  learned  life  —  and  you  got  to  dehorn  them 
ideas,  and  tame  'em." 

Lahoma  examined  him  with  new  interest.  "  Are 
you  civilized?"  Her  countenance  fell. 

"  Not  to  no  wide  extent,  but  I  can  ford  toler'ble 
deep  streams  that  would  drown  you,  honey.  Just 


8o  LAHOMA 

put  confidence  in  me,  and  when  I  get  over  my 
head,  I'll  holler  for  help.  I  judge  I  can  put  five 
good  years'  work  on  you  without  exhausting  my 
stores.  I  can  read  amongst  the  small  words  pretty 
peart  —  the  young  calves,  so  to  say  —  and  lots  of 
them  big  steers  in  three  or  four  syllables, —  I  can 
sort  o'  guess  at  their  road-brands  from  the  comp'ny 
I've  saw  'em  traveling  with,  in  times  past.  And  I 
can  write  my  own  name,  and  yours  too,  I  reckon 
> — Lahoma  Gledware  —  yes,  I'm  toler'ble  well 
versed  on  a  capital  '  G ' —  you  just  make  a  gap  with 
a  flying  tail  to  it." 

"My  name  not  Lahoma  Gledware,"  she  inter- 
posed in  some  severity.  "  My  name,  Lahoma 
Willock.  Beautiful  name  —  lovely,  like  flower  — 
Willock;  call  me  Lahoma  Willock  —  like  song  of 
little  stream.  Gledware,  hard  —  rough." 

Brick  Willock  stared  at  her  in  amazement. 
"  Where' d  you  get  that  from?" 

"  My  name  Lahoma  Willock  —  Red  Feather  tell 


me." 


He  smoked  in  silence,  puffing  rapidly.  Then  — 
"  My  name  is  Brick  Willock.  How  came  you  to 
be  named  Lahoma  Willock?" 

Lahoma  suggested  thoughtfully — "All  .white 
people  named  Willock  ?  " 


"Do  you  know  anything  about  God?' 


RED  FEATHER  81 

•"  There's  a  few,"  Willock  shook  his  head,  "  with 
less  agreeable  names.  But  after  all,  I'm  glad  you 
have  my  name.  Yes  —  the  more  I  think  on  it,  the 
more  pleased  I  get.  I  reckon  we're  sort  of  kin- 
folks,  anyhow.  Well,  honey,  this  is  enough  talk 
about  being  civilized;  now  let's  make  the  first  move 
on  the  way.  You  want  to  see  your  mother's  grave, 
and  lay  some  of  these  wild  flowers  on  it.  That's 
a  part  of  being  civilized,  caring  for  graves  is.  It's 
just  savages  as  forgets  the  past  and  consequently 
never  learns  nothing.  Come  along.  Them  mocca- 
sins will  do  famous  until  I  can  get  you  shoes  from 
the  settlements.  It's  seventy  mile  to  Vernon,  Texas, 
and  none  too  easy  miles.  But  I  got  a  pony  the 
first  time  I  ventured  to  Doan's  store,  and  it'll  carry 
you,  if  I  have  to  walk  at  your  side.  We'll  make  a 
festibul  march  of  that  journey,  and  lay  in  clothes 
as  a  girl  should  wear,  and  books  to  last  through  the 
winter." 

Willock  rose  and  explained  that  they  must  cross 
the  mountain.  As  they  traversed  it,  he  reminded 
her  that  she  had  not  gathered  any  of  the  flowers 
that  were  scattered  under  sheltering  boulders. 

"Why?"  asked  Lahoma,  showing  that  her 
neglect  to  do  so  was  intentional. 

"  Well,   honey,  don't  you  love  and  honor  that 


82  LAHOMA 

mother  that  bore  so  much  pain  and  trouble  for  you, 
traveling  with  you  in  her  arms  to  the  Oklahoma 
country,  trying  to  make  a  home  for  you  up  there 
in  the  wilderness,  and  at  last  dying  from  the  hard- 
ships of  the  plains.  Ain't  she  worth  a  few 
flowers  ?  " 

"  She  dead.  She  not  see  flowers,  not  smell 
flowers,  not  know." 

Willock  said  nothing,  but  the  next  time  they  came 
to  a  clump  of  blossoms  he  made  a  nosegay.  Lahoma 
watched  him  with  a  face  as  calm  and  unemotional 
as  that  of  Red  Feather,  himself.  She  held  her  back 
with  the  erect  grace  and  moved  her  limbs  with  the 
swift  ease  of  those  among  whom  she  had  passed 
the  last  two  years.  In  delightful  harmony  with  this 
air  of  wildness  was  the  rich  and  delicate  beauty 
of  her  sun-browned  face,  and  the  golden  glow  of 
her  silken  brown  hair.  Willock's  heart  yearned  to- 
ward her  as  only  the  heart  of  one  destined  to  pro- 
found loneliness  can  yearn  toward  the  exquisite 
grace  and  unconscious  charm  of  a  child;  but  to  the 
degree  that  he  felt  this  attraction,  he  held  himself 
firmly  aloof,  knowing  that  wild  animals  are  fright- 
ened when  kindness  beams  without  its  veil. 

"What  you  do  with  that?"  She  pointed  at  the 
flowers  in  his  rough  hand. 


RED  FEATHER  83 

"  I'm  going  to  put  'em  on  your  mother's  grave." 

"  She  not  know.  Not  see,  not  smell.  She  dead, 
mother  dead." 

"  Lahoma,  do  you  know  anything  about  God  ? " 

"  Yes  —  Great  Spirit.  God  make  my  path 
white." 

"  Well,  I  want  God  to  know  that  somebody  re- 
members your  mother.  It's  God  that  smells  the 
flowers  on  the  graves  of  the  dead." 

They  walked  on.  Pretty  soon  Lahoma  began 
looking  about  for  flowers,  but  they  had  reached  the 
last  barren  ledge,  and  no  more  came  in  sight. 

"  Take  these,  Lahoma." 

"No.  Couldn't  fool  God."  They  began  the 
last  descent.  Willock  suddenly  discovered  that 
tears  were  slipping  down  the  girl's  face.  He  said 
nothing;  he  did  not  fear,  now,  for  he  thought  the 
tears  promised  a  brighter  dawning. 

Suddenly  Lahoma  cried  joyfully,  "  Oh,  look, 
Brick,  look !  "  And  she  darted  toward  the  spot  at 
the  foot  of  a  tall  cedar,  where  purple  and  white 
blossoms  showed  in  profusion.  She  gathered  an 
armful,  and  they  went  down  to  the  plain. 

"  Her  head's  toward  the  west,"  he  said,  as  they 
stood  beside  the  pile  of  stones.  Lahoma  placed 
the  flowers  at  the  western  margin  of  the  pyramid. 


84  LAHOMA 

Willock  laid  his  at  the  foot  of  the  grave.  The  sun 
had  set  and  the  warmth  of  the  heated  sand  was 
tempered  by  a  fragrant  breeze.  Though  late  in 
October,  he  felt  as  if  spring  were  just  dawning. 
He  took  Lahoma's  hand,  and  his  heart  throbbed  to 
find  that  she  showed  no  disposition  to  draw  away. 
He  looked  up  with  a  great  sigh  of  thanksgiving. 
"Well,  God,"  he  said  softly,  "  here  she  is  —  You 
sure  done  it !  " 


CHAPTER  VIII 

GETTING    CIVILIZED 

DURING  the  two  years  passed  by  Brick  Wil- 
lock  in  dreary  solitude,  conditions  about  him 
had  changed.  The  hardships  of  pioneer  life  which, 
fifty  years  ago,  had  obtained  in  the  Middle  States 
yet  prevailed,  in  1882,  in  the  tract  of  land  claimed 
by  Texas  under  the  name  of  Greer  County;  but  the 
dangers  of  pioneer  life  were  greatly  lessened.  As 
Lahoma  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  mountain- 
range,  and  explored  the  plain  extending  beyond  the 
natural  horseshoe,  Willock  believed  she  ran  little 
danger  from  Indians.  Jrle,  himself,  had  ceased  to 
preserve  his  unrelaxing  watchfulness;  after  all,  it 
had  been  the  highwaymen  rather  than  the  red  men 
whom  he  had  most  feared  —  and  after  two  years  it 
did  not  seem  likely  that  such  volatile  men  would  pre- 
serve the  feeling  of  vengeance. 

With  the  wisdom  derived  from  his  experience 
with  wild  natures,  he  carefully  abstained  from  any 
attempt  to  force  Lahoma's  friendship,  hence  it  was 
not  long  before  he  obtained  it  without  reserve.  As 

85 


86  LAHOMA 

she  walked  beside  him,  grave  and  alert,  she  no 
longer  thought  of  his  bushy  beard  and  prodigious 
mop  of  harsh  hair;  and  the  daily  exhibition  of  his 
strength  caused  him  to  grow  handsome  in  her  eyes 
because  most  of  those  feats  were  performed  for  her 
comfort  or  pleasure.  In  the  meantime  he  talked 
incessantly,  and  to  his  admiration,  he  presently 
found  her  manner  of  speech  wonderfully  like  his 
own,  both  fluent  and  ungrammatical. 

He  knew  nothing  of  grammar,  to  be  sure,  but 
there  were  times  when  his  mistakes,  echoed  from  her 
lips,  struck  upon  his  ear,  and  though  he  might  not 
always  know  how  to  correct  them,  he  was  prompt 
to  suggest  changes,  testing  each,  as  a  natural  musi- 
cian judges  music,  by  ear.  Dissatisfied  with  his 
own  standards,  he  was  all  the  more  impatient  to 
depart  on  the  expedition  after  mental  tools,  despite 
the  dangers  that  might  beset  the  journey. 

His  first  task  prompted  by  the  coming  of  Lahoma, 
had  been  to  partition  off  the  half  of  the  dugout 
containing  the  stove  for  the  child's  private  chamber,  j 
Cedar  posts  set  in  the  ground  and  plastered  with 
mud  higher  than  his  head,  left  a  space  between  the 
top  and  the  apex  of  the  ceiling  that  the  temperature 
might  be  equalized  in  both  rooms.  Thus  far,  how- 
ever, they  did  not  stay  in  the  dugout  except  long 


GETTING  CIVILIZED  87 

enough  to  eat  and  sleep,  for  the  autumn  had  con- 
tinued delightful,  and  the  cove  seemed  to  the  child 
her  home,  of  which  the  dugout  was  a  sort  of  cel- 
lar. Concerning  the  stone  retreat  in  the  crevice  she 
knew  nothing.  Willock  did  not  know  why  he  kept 
the  secret,  since  he  trusted  Lahoma  with  all  his 
treasures,  but  the  unreasoning  reticence  of  the  man 
of  great  loneliness  still  rested  on  him.  Some  day, 
he  would  tell  —  but  not  just  yet. 

"Lahoma,"  he  said  one  day,  "there's  a  settler 
over  yonder  in  the  mountains  across  the  south  plain. 
How'd  you  like  to  pay  him  a  visit?" 

"  I  don't  want  anybody  but  you,"  said  Lahoma 
promptly. 

Willock  stood  on  one  leg,  rubbing  the  other  medi- 
tatively with  his  delighted  foot.  Not  the  quiver  of 
a  muscle,  however,  revealed  the  fact  that  her  words 
had  flooded  his  heart  with  sunshine.  "  Well,  honey, 
that's  in  reason.  But  I've  got  to  take  you  with  me 
after  books  and  winter  supplies,  and  I  don't  like 
the  idea  of  traveling  alone.  It  come  to  me  that  I 
might  get  Mr.  Settler  to  go,  too.  Time  was  not 
so  long  ago  when  Injun  bands  was  coming  and  go- 
ing, and  although  old  Greer  is  beginning  to  be 
sprinkled  up  with  settlers,  here  and  there,  I  can't  get 
over  the  feel  of  the  old  times.  They  ain't  no  sensa- 


88  LAHOMA 

tion  as  sticks  by  a  man  when  he's  come  to  be 
wedged  in  between  forty-five  and  fifty,  as  the  feel 
of  the  old-  times." 

"Well,"  said  Lahoma  earnestly,  "I  wish  you'd 
leave  me  here  when  you  go  after  them  books.  I 
don't  want  to  be  with  no  strangers,  I  want  to  just 
squat  right  here  and  bear  myself  company." 

"  That's  in  reason.  But,  honey,  while  you  might 
be  safe  enough  whilst  bearing  the  same,  I  would  be 
plumb  crazy  worrying  about  you.  I  might  not  have 
good  cause  for  worrying,  but  worrying  —  it  ain't 
no  bird  that  spreads  its  wings  and  goes  north  when 
cold  weather  comes ;  worrying  —  it's  independent  of 
causes  and  seasons." 

"If  you  have  got  to  be  stayed  with  to  keep  you 
from  worrying,  they  ain't  nothing  more  to  be  said." 

"  Just  so.  That  there  old  settler,  I  have  crossed 
a  few  words  with  him,  and  I  believe  he  would  do 
noble  to  travel  with.  He's  as  gruff  and  growly  as 
a  grizzly  bear  if  you  say  a  word  to  him,  and  if  he'll 
just  turn  all  that  temper  he's  vented  on  me  on  to 
any  strangers  we  may  run  up  against  on  the  trail, 
he'll  do  invaluable." 

"  I'll  go  catch  up  the  pony,"  said  Lahoma  briefly, 
"  for  I  see  the  thing  is  to  be  did.  This  will  be  the 


GETTING  CIVILIZED  89 

first  visit  I  ever  made  in  my  life  when  I  wasn't  drug 
by  the  Injuns." 

"  You  mustn't  say  '  drug/  honey,  unless  specify- 
ing medicines  and  herbs.  I  ain't  saying  you  didn't 
get  it  from  me,  and  knowing  you  do  get  from  me 
all  I  got,  is  what  makes  me  hone  for  them  books. 
You  must  say  '  dragged/  The  Injuns  dragged  you 
from  one  village  to  another."  He  paused  medi- 
tatively, muttering  the  word  to  himself,  while  La- 
homa  ran  away  to  catch  the  pony.  When  she  came 
back,  leading  it  by  the  mane,  he  said,  "  I've  been 
a-weighing  that  word,  Lahoma,  and  it  don't  seem  to 
me  that  '  dragged '  sounds  proper.  It  don't  seem 
no  sort  of  word  to  use  in  a  parlor.  What  do  you 
think?  Dragged!  How  does  that  strike  you?" 

rt  I  don't  like  the  sound  of  it,  neither,"  said  La- 
homa, shaking  her  head.  "  I  think  drug  is  softer. 
It  kinder  melts  in  the  ear,  and  dragged  sticks." 

"  Well,  don't  use  neither  one  till  I  can  find  out." 
Presently  he  was  swinging  along  across  the  plain 
toward  the  southwestern  range  while  the  girl  kept 
close  beside  him  on  the  pony.  [Their  talk  was  in- 
cessant, voicing  the  soul  of  good  comradeship,  and 
but  for  the  difference  between  heavy  bass  and  fluty 
soprano,  a  listener  might  have  supposed  himself 


9o  LAHOMA 

overhearing  a  conversation  between  two  Brick  Wil- 
locks. 

There  was  nothing  about  the  second  range  of  the 
Wichita  Mountains  to  distinguish  it  from  the  one 
farthest  toward  the  northeast  except  a  precipice  at 
its  extremity,  rising  a  sheer  three  or  four  hundred 
feet  above  the  level  plain.  Beyond  this  lofty  ter- 
mination, the  mountain  curved  inward,  leaving  a 
wide  grassy  cove  open  toward  the  south;  and 
within  this  half-circle  was  the  settler's  dugout. 

The  unprotected  aspect  of  that  little  home  was  in 
itself  an  eloquent  commentary  on  the  wonderful 
changes  that  had  come  about  during  the  last  seven- 
teen years.  The  oval  tract  of  one  million  five  hun- 
dred thousand  acres  lying  between  Red  River  and 
its  fork,  named  Greer  County,  and  claimed  by  Texas, 
was  in  miniature  a  reproduction  of  the  early  history 
of  America.  Until  1860  it  had  not  even  borne  a 
name,  and  since  then  it  had  possessed  no  settled 
abodes.  Here  bands  of  Indians  of  various  tribes 
had  come  and  gone  at  will,  and  here  the  Indians  of 
the  Plains,  after  horrible  deeds  of  depredation,  mas- 
sacre and  reprisal,  had  found  shelter  among  its 
mountains.  The  country  lay  at  the  southwest  cor- 
ner of  Indian  Territory  for  which  the  Indians  had 
exchanged  their  lands  in  other  parts  of  the  United 


GETTING  CIVILIZED  9i 

States  on  the  guarantee  that  the  government  would 
"  forever  secure  to  them  and  their  heirs  the  country 
so  exchanged  with  them." 

At  the  close  of  the  Civil  War  the  unhappy  Indians 
long  continued  in  a  state  of  smoldering  animosity, 
or  warlike  activity,  tribe  against  tribe,  band  against 
band;  they  had  inherited  the  rancor  and  bitterness 
of  the  White  Man's  war  with  neither  the  fruits  of 
victory  nor  the  dignity  that  attends  honorable  de- 
feat. The  reservations  that  belonged  originally  to 
the  Cherokee,  Choctaw,  Chickasaw,  Seminole  and 
Creek  tribes,  were  reduced  in  area  to  make  room  for 
new  tribes  from  Kansas,  Colorado  and  other  states, 
and  the  Indian  wars  resulted.  For  a  time  the  scalp- 
knife  was  crimsoned,  the  stake  was  charred,  bands 
stole  in  single  file  over  mountains  and  among  half- 
dried  streams;  troups  of  the  regular  army  were 
assaulted  by  invisible  foes,  and  forts  were  threat- 
ened. Youths  who  read  romances  of  a  hundred 
years  ago  dealing  with  the  sudden  war-cry,  the  flam- 
ing cabin,  the  stealthy  approach  of  swarming 
savages,  need  have  traveled  only  a  few  hundred  miles 
to  witness  on  the  open  page  of  life  what  seemed 
to  them,  in  their  long-settled  states,  fables  of  a  dead 
past. 

But  though  the  Indian  wars  in  the  Territory  had 


92  LAHOMA 

been  bloody  and  vindictive,  they  had  not  been  pro- 
tracted as  in  the  old  days.  Around  the  c<  untry  of 
the  red  man  was  drawn  closer  and  more  securely,  day 
by  day,  the  girdle  of  civilization.  Within  its  con- 
stricting grasp  the  spirit  of  savagery,  if  not  crushed, 
was  at  least  subdued.  Tribes  naked  but  for  their 
blankets,  unadorned  save  by  the  tattoo,  found  them- 
selves pressed  close  to  other  tribes  which,  already 
civilized,  had  relinquished  the  chase  for  agricultural 
pursuits.  Primeval  men,  breathing  this  quickened 
atmosphere  of  modernity,  either  grew  more  sophisti- 
cated, or  perished  like  wild  flowers  brought  too  near 
the  heat.  It  is  true  the  plains  were  still  unoccupied, 
but  they  had  been  captured  —  for  the  railroad  had 
come,  and  the  buffalo  had  vanished 

Brick  Willock  and  the  man  he  had  come  to  see 
were  very  good  types  of  the  first  settlers  of  the 
new  country  —  one  a  highwayman,  hiding  from  his 
kind,  the  other  a  trapper  by  occupation,  trying  to 
keep  ahead  of  the  pursuing  waves  of  immigration. 
It  was  the  first  time  Lahoma  had  seen  Bill  Atkins, 
and  as  she  caught  sight  of  him  before  his  dugout, 
her  eyes  brightened  with  interest.  He  was  a  tall 
lank  man  of  about  sixty-five,  with  a  huge  gray 
mustache  and  bushy  hair  of  iron-gray,  but  with- 
out a  beard.  The  mustache  gave  him  an  effect  of 


GETTING  CIVILIZED  93 

exceeding  fierceness,  and  the  deeply  wrinkled  fore- 
head and  square  chin  added  their  testimony  to  his 
ungracious  disposition. 

But  Lahoma  was  not  afraid  of  coyotes,  cata- 
mounts or  mountain-lions,  and  she  was  not  afraid 
of  Bill  Atkins.  Her  eyes  brightened  at  the  discov- 
ery that  he  held  in  his  hand  that  which  Willock  had 
described  to  her  as  a  book. 

"  Does  he  read  ? "  she  asked  Willock,  breath- 
lessly. "  Does  he  read,  Brick  ?  " 

Willock  surveyed  the  seated  figure  gravely. 
"  He  reads !  "  he  responded. 

The  man  looked  up,  saw  Willock  and  bent  over 
his  book  —  discovered  Lahoma  on  the  pony,  and 
looked  up  again,  unwillingly  but  definitely.  "  You 
never  told  me  you  had  a  little  girl,"  he  remarked 
gruffly. 

"  You  never  asked  me,"  said  Willock.  "  Get 
down,  Lahoma,  and  make  yourself  at  home." 

The  man  shut  his  book.  "  What  are  you  going 
to  do?" 

"  Going  to  visit  you.  Turn  the  pony  loose,  La- 
homa; he  won't  go  far." 

"  Haven't  you  got  all  that  north  range  to  your- 
self?" Bill  Atkins  asked  begrudgingly. 

"Yap.     How're  you  making  it,  Atkins?" 


94  LAHOMA 

"  Why,  as  long  as  I'm  let  alone,  I'm  making  it 
all  right.  It's  being  let  alone  that  I  can't  ever  ac- 
complish. When  I  was  a  boy  I  began  my  travels 
to  keep  out  where  I  could  breathe,  and  I've  been 
crowded  out  of  Missouri  and  Kansas  and  Colorado 
and  Wyoming  and  California,  and  now  I've  come 
to  the  American  Desert  thinking  I  could  die  in  peace, 
but  oh,  no,  not  me!  I  no  sooner  get  settled  and 
make  my  turf  'dugout,  than  here  comes  a 
stranger  — " 

"  Name  of  Brick  Willock,  if  you've  forgot,"  in- 
terpolated Willock  genially.  "I'll  just  light  my 
pipe,  as  I  reckon  there's  no  objections.  Lahoma 
don't  care,  and  you  can  breathe  all  right  if  you 
keep  with  the  wind  from  you." 

The  man  turned  his  back  upon  Willock,  opened 
his  book  and  read. 

Lahoma  approached  the  block  of  wood  that  sup- 
ported him,  while  Willock  calmly  stretched  himself 
out  on  the  grass.  "  Is  that  a  book?  "  she  asked,  by 
way  of  opening  up  the  conversation. 

The  man  gripped  it  tighter  and  moved  his  lips 
busily.  As  she  remained  at  his  knee,  he  presently 
said,  "  Oh,  no,  it's  a  hand-organ!  " 

Lahoma  smiled  pityingly.  "Are  you  afraid  of 
me,  Atkins?" 


GETTING  CIVILIZED  95 

The  man  looked  up  with  open  mouth.  "  Not  ex- 
actly, kid !  "  There  was  something  in  her  face  that 
made  him  lose  interest  in  his  book.  He  kept  look- 
ing at  her. 

"  Then  why  don't  you  tell  the  truth?  We  won't 
hurt  you." 

The  man  opened  his  mouth  and  closed  it.  Then 
he  said,  "  It's  a  book." 

"Did  you  ever  read  it  before?" 

"  This  is  the  third  time  I've  read  it." 

Seems  as  it  hasn't  accomplished  no  good  on 
you,  as  you  still  tell  lies." 

The  man  rose  abruptly,  and  laid  the  book  on  the 
seat.  His  manner  was  quite  as  discouraging  as  it 
had  been  from  the  start. 

"  Honey,"  interposed  Willock,  "  that  ain't  to  say 
a  lie,  not  a  real  lie." 

"Is  it  a  hand-organ?"  Lahoma  demanded 
sternly. 

"  In  a  manner  of  speaking,  honey,  it  is  a  hand- 
organ  in  the  sense  of  shutting  you  off  from  asking 
questions.  You  learn  to  distinguish  the  sauces  of 
speech  as  you  gets  older.  Out  in  the  big  world, 
people  don't  say  this  or  that  according  as  it  is, 
they  steeps  their  words  in  a  sauce  as  suits  the  di- 
gestion. Don't  be  so  quick  to  call  '  lies  I '  till  you 


96  LAHOMA 

learns  the  flavor  of  a  fellow's  meaning,  not  by  his 
words  but  by  the  sauce  he  steeps  'em  in." 

"Don't  get  mad  at  me,"  said  Lahoma  to  the 
trapper.  "  I  don't  know  nothing,  never  having  cap- 
tured and  branded  the  thoughts  that  is  caged  up  in 
books.  But  I  want  to  be  civilized  and  I  am  in- 
vestigating according." 

The  trapper,  somewhat  conciliated,  reseated  him- 
self. He  regarded  the  girl  with  greater  interest,  not 
without  a  certain  approval.  "  How  comes  it  that 
you  aren't  civilized,  living  with  such  a  knowing 
specimen  as  your  own  father?" 

"My  father's  dead.  Brick  is  my  cousin,  but  I 
not  knowing  nothing  of  him  till  he  saved  my  life 
two  years  ago  and  after  that,  me  with  the  Indians 
and  him  all  alone.  Would  you  like  to  hear  about 
it?" 

"  I  wouldn't  bother  him,  honey,  with  all  that  long 
story,"  interposed  Willock,  suddenly  grown  restive. 

"Yes,  tell  me,"  said  the  trapper,  moving  over 
that  she  might  find  room  on  the  block  of  wood  beside 
him. 

Lahoma  seated  herself  eagerly  and  looking  up 
into  the  other's  face,  which  softened  more  and  more 
under  her  fearless  gaze,  she  said: 

"  We  was  crossing  the  plains  —  father,  mother  and 


GETTING  CIVILIZED  97 

me,  in  a  big  wagon.  And  men  dressed  up  like  In- 
dians, they  come  whooping  and  shooting,  and 
father  turns  around  and  drives  with  all  his  might 
—  drives  clear  to  yonder  mountain.  And  mother 
dies,  being  that  sick  before,  and  the  jolting  too  much 
for  her.  So  father  takes  me  on  his  horse  and  rides 
all  night,  and  I  all  asleep.  Well,  those  same  men 
dressed  like  Indians,  they  was  in  a  cabin  'way  up 
north,  and  had  put  their  wigs  and  feathers  off  and 
was  gambling  over  what  they  stole  from  the  other 
wagons.  So  father,  he  sees  the  light  from  the 
window  and  rides  up  with  me.  And  they  takes 
him  for  a  spy  and  says  they,  in  a  voice  awful  fierce, 
just  this  way—  'Kill  'em  both!'" 

The  trapper  gave  a  start  at  the  explosiveness 
of  her  tone. 

Lahoma  shouted  again,  as  harshly  as  she  could, 
"  '  Kill  'em  both/  says  they."  Then  she  turned  to 
Willock.  "Did  I  put  them  words  in  the  correct 
sauce,  Brick?" 

"You  done  noble,  honey." 

Lahoma  resumed :  "  Now  it  was  in  a  manner  of 
happening  that  Brick,  he  was  riding  around  to  have 
a  look  at  the  country,  and  when  he  rides  up  to  the 
cabin,  why,  right  outside  there  was  me  and  father, 
and  two  of  the  robbers  about  to  kill  us.  '  What  are 


98  LAHOMA 

you  devils  up  to?'  says  Brick.  'You  go  to  hell/ 
says  the  leading  man,  '  that's  where  we're  going  to 
send  this  spy  and  his  little  girl/  says  he ;  '  you  go 
to  hell  and  maybe  you'll  meet  'em  there/  he  says. 
And  with  that  he  ups  and  shoots  at  Brick,  the  bul- 
let lifting  his  hat  right  off  his  head  and  scaring  the 
horse  out  from  under  him,  so  he  falls  right  there 
at  the  feet  of  them  two  robber-men,  on  his  back. 
Brick,  he  never  harmed  nobody  before  in  his  life, 
but  what  was  he  to  do?  He  might  of  let  them  kill 
him,  but  that  would  of  left  father  and  me  in  their 
grip,  so  he  just  grabs  the  gun  out  of  the  leading 
man's  hand,  as  he  hadn't  ever  carried  a  gun  in 
his  life  his  own  self,  and  he  shot  both  them  robbers, 
him  still  laying  there  on  his  back  — " 

"  No,  honey,  I  got  up  about  that  time." 

"  Brick,  you  told  me  you  was  still  laying  there 
on  your  back  just  as  you  fell." 

"  Did  I,  honey,  well,  I  reckon  I  was,  then,  for 
when  I  told  you  about  it,  it  was  more  recent." 

"  It's  awful  interesting,"  the  trapper  remarked 
dryly. 

"  Yes,  ain't  it! "  Lahoma  glowed.  '"  Then  father 
jumped  on  one  horse  with  me,  and  Brick  put  out 
on  another,  and  when  I  woke  up,  the  Indians  were 
all  everywhere,  but  Brick  come 'here  and  lived  all 


GETTING  CIVILIZED  99 

alone  and  nearly  died  because  he  didn't  have  me  to 
comfort  him.  So  the  Indians  took  me  and  they 
killed  father,  and  for  two  years  I  was  moved  from 
village  to  village  till  Red  Feather  brought  me  to 
Brick.  And  then  we  found  out  we  are  cousins  and 
he  is  going  to  civilize  me.  Brick,  he  remembers 
about  a  cousin  of  his,  Cousin  Martha  Willock,  her 
sister  went  driving  out  to  the  Oklahoma  country 
with  her  husband  and  little  girl  and  wasn't  never 
heard  of.  I  am  the  little  girl,  all  right,  and  Brick 
he's  my  second  cousin.  And  wasn't  it  lucky  Brick 
was  riding  around  that  night,  looking  at  the  coun- 
try, when  they  was  about  to  put  daylight  into  me  ?  " 

"I'd  think,"  remarked  the  trapper,  "that  he'd 
take  you  back  to  your  Cousin  Martha,  for  men-folks 
like  him  and  me  aren't  placed  to  take  care  of  women- 
folks." 

"  Yes,  but  he  got  a  letter  saying  my  Cousin  Mar- 
tha and  all  her  family  is  *  done  been  swept  away 
by  a  flood  of  the  Mississippi  River,  and  him  and  me 
is  all  they  is  left  of  the  Willockses,  so  we  got  to 
stick  together.  Besides,  you  see,  he  killed  them  two 
robbers,  and  the  rest  of  the  gang  is  laying  for  him; 
Brick,  he  feels  so  dreadful,  he  never  having  so  much 
as  put  a  scratch  to  a  man's  face  before,  for  he 
wouldn't  never  fight  as  a  boy,  his  conscience  wouldn't 


noo  LAHOMA 

rest  if  he  was  in  civilization.  He'd  go  right  up  to 
'  the  first  policeman  he  met  and  say,  '  I  done  the  deed. 
Carry  me  to  the  pen ! '  he'd  say,  and  then  what 
would  become  of  me?  " 

"  He  might  get  another  letter  from  your  Cousin 
Vlartha  to  help  him  out  of  the  scrape." 

Lahoma  stared  at  him,  unable  to  grasp  the  sig- 

'ificance  of  these  foolish  words,  and  Brick,  seeking 

vv  diversion,  explained  his  purpose  of  taking  Lahoma 

tv,  the  settlements  after  supplies,  and  proffered  his 

petition  that  Bill  Atkins  accompany  them. 

Lahoma  has  never  forgotten  that  expedition  to 
the  settlements.  Along  the  Chisholm  Trail 
marched  Brick  Willock  and  Bill  Atkins,  one  full  of 
genial  philosophy,  responsive  to  every  sight  and 
sound  along  the  way,  the  other  taciturn  and  uncom- 
panionable, a  being  present  in  the  flesh,  but  seem- 
ingly absent  in  the  spirit.  Behind  them  rode  the 
girl,  with  unceasing  interest  in  the  broad  hard-beaten 
trail  —  the  only  mark  in  that  wilderness  to  tell  them 
that  others  had  passed  that  way.  The  men  walked 
with  deliberate  but  well-measured  step,  preserving 
a  pace  that  carried  them  mile  aftei-  mile  seemingly 
with  little  weariness.  Three  times  on  the  journey 
great  herds  of*  cattle  were  encountered  on  their  way 
toward  Kansas,  and  many  were  the  looks  of  curi- 


GETTING  CIVILIZED  101 

osity  cast  on  the  little  girl  ^ttmg;  'as  striiffht'aS  an 
Indian  on  her  pony.  '•,>  /•%  :,,:•'  V  ••:  -Xj  •  /<, 

She  was  glad  when  a  swinging  cloud  of  dust 
announced  the  coming  of  thousands  of  steers,  at- 
tended by  cowboys,  for  it  meant  a  glimpse  into  an 
unknown  world,  and  the  bellowing  of  cattle,  the 
shouting  of  men  and  the  cracking  of  whips  stirred 
her  blood.  But  she  was  glad,  too,  when  the  stream 
of  life  had  flowed  past,  and  she  was  left  alone  with 
Brick  and  Bill,  for  then  the  never-ending  conversa- 
tion with  the  former  was  resumed,  picked  up  at  the 
point  where  it  had  been  dropped,  or  drawn  forward 
from  raveled  bits  of  unfinished  discourse  of  the  day 
before,  and  though  Bill  Atkins  said  almost  nothing 
and  always  looked  straight  ahead,  he  was,  in  a  way, 
spice  in  the  feast  of  her  enjoyment. 

When  they  stopped  for  their 'meals,  they  drew; 
aside  from  the  trail,  if  possible  near  some  spring 
or  river-bed  in  which  pools  of  water  lingered,  but 
such  stopping-places  were  far  apart  in  the  desert 
country.  At  night  there  was  a  cheerful  bonfire,  fol- 
lowed by  zestful  talk  as  they  lay  on  the  ground,— 
before  falling  asleep  in  their  tarpaulins  —  talk 
eagerly  monopolized  by  Brick  and  Lahoma,  and  to 
which  Atkins  seemed  in  a  manner  to  listen,  perhaps 
warming  his  heart  at  the  light  of  their  comrade- 


102  LAHOMA 

ship  even  as*  they' warmed  their  hands  in  the  early 

«••»•*.      '  -         .     'j  * 

h-H/?  ni -r<-  ;.:<  the:  breakfast  fire.     Atkins  had  brought 

;with  him  one  of  his  books,  and  at  the  noon  hour's 
rest,  and  at  evening  beside  the  bonfire,  he  kept  his 
nose  buried  in  its  pages. 

Lahoma  did  not  think  life  would  have  been  too 
long  to  devote  to  such  pilgrimages.  In  the  settle- 
ments, she  was  bewildered,  but  never  satiated,  with 
novelties,  and  on  the  way  back,  everything  she  had 
seen  was  discussed,  expounded  and  classified  be- 
tween her  and  her  "  cousin."  Sometimes  her  ques- 
tions drove  Brick  up  against  a  stone  wall  and  then 
Bill  Atkins  would  raise  his  voice  and  in  three  or 
four  words  put  the  matter  in  its  true  light. 

"  Bill,  he's  saw  more  of  life  than  me,"  Brick 
conceded  admiringly.  "  He  has  come  and  went 
amongst  all  sorts  of  people,  but  my  specialty  has 
in  the  main  been  low." 

"Yes,  I've  seen  more  of  life,"  Atkins  agreed; 
"  that's  why  I  try  so  hard  to  keep  away  from  it." 

'  The  more  I  see,  the  more  I  want  to  see !  "  cried 
Lahoma  eagerly. 

"Yes,  honey,"  Brick  explained,  "that's  because 
you're  a  woman" 

Once  more  back  in  the  cove,  Lahoma  dreamed 
new  dreams,  peopling  the  grassy  solitude  with  the 


GETTING  CIVILIZED  103 

figures  she  had  encountered  on  her  travels,  liken- 
ing the  rocks  to  various  houses  that  had  caught  her 
fancy.  She  turned  with  absorbed  interest  to  the 
primer  and  elementary  arithmetic  with  which  Brick 
had  supplied  himself  as  the  first  tools  for  his  mental 
kit. 

The  journey  back  home  had  been  far  easier  than 
the  descent  into  Texas  because  both  Willock  and 
Atkins  had  supplied  themselves  with  ponies, —  ani- 
mals that  sold  ridiculously  cheap  at  the  outlying 
posts  of  the  settlements.  Brick  Willock  brought 
back  with  him  something  else  to  add  cheerfulness 
and  usefulness  to  approaching  winter.  This  was  a 
square  window-sash,  set  with  four  small  panes  of 
good  glass.  It  was  hard  work  to  place  this  window 
in  Lahoma's  side  of  the  dugout,  but  it  was  work 
thoroughly  enjoyed.  Lahoma's  room  was  on  the 
west,  and  from  noon  to  sundown,  the  advantage  of 
the  window  was  a  source  of  never-ending  de- 
light. 

"  Good  thing  we've  got  our  window/'  Brick 
would  say  as  they  sat  on  the  low  rude  bench  before 
the  little  stove,  and  the  furious  wind  of  January 
howled  overhead.  Or,  when  the  wintry  sky  was 
leaden  and  all  Brick's  side  of  the  partition  was  as 
dark  as  the  hole  of  a  prairie-dog,  he  would  visit 


,104  LAHOMA 

Lahoma,  and  gloat  over  the  dim  gray  light  steal- 
ing through  the  small  panes.  "  That  window's  no 
bad  ideal"  he  would  chuckle,  stooping  his  great 
bulk  cautiously  as  he  seated  himself,  as  if  to  lighten 
his  weight  by  doubling  in  upon  himself. 

"  Good  thing  I've  got  my  window,"  Lahoma 
would  say  as  the  snow  lay  thick  on  the  plains  and 
in  broken  lines  all  over  the  mountain,  and  the  cut- 
ting blast  made  the  fire  jump  with  sudden  fright. 
She  would  hold  her  book  close  to  the  dirt  square 
in  which  the  frame  was  planted,  and  spell  out  words 
she  had  never  heard  used,  such  as  "  lad,"  "  lass," 
tl  sport,"  and  the  like  mysteries.  "  This  window  is 
going  to  civilize  me,  Brick." 

It  did  not  lessen  their  relish  in  the  subject  that 
they  had  discussed  it  already  a  hundred  times.  It 
was  the  same  way  with  the  hand-made  bench,  witS 
the  trench  that  carried  water  from  their  door  dur- 
ing sudden  downpours,  and  with  the  self-congratu- 
lation over  owning  two  ponies  to  keep  each  other 
company. 

"  They's  one  thing  about  us,  Lahoma,  which  it 
ain't  according  to  the  big  outside  world,  and  yet 
I  hope  it  won't  never  be  changed.  We  are  mighty 
glad  we've  got  what  we've  got.  And  to  be  glad 
of  what  you've  got  is  a  sure  way  to  multiply  your 


GETTING  CIVILIZED  ,105 

property.  Every  time  you  brag  on  that  window,  it 
shines  like  two  windows  to  me." 

Spring  came  late  that  year,  and  in  the  early  days 
of  March,  Brick  rode  over  to  the  cove  behind  the 
precipice  after  Bill  Atkins.  "  I  want  you  to  come 
over  to  my  place/'  he  begged,  "  and  answer  some 
of  Lahoma's  questions.  Being  closeted  with  her  in 
that  there  dugout  all  winter,  she  has  pumped  me  as 
dry  as  a  bone." 

Perhaps  Bill  Atkins  had  had  his  fill  of  solitude 
during  that  cold  winter  —  or  perhaps  he  was  hungry 
for  another  hour  of  the  little  girl's  company. 
Nothing,  however,  showed  his  satisfaction  as  he 
entered  her  chamber.  "  Here  I  am,"  he  announced, 
seating  himself  on  the  bench.  This  was  his  only 
greeting. 

"  Is  it  drug  or  dragged  ?  "  demanded  Lahoma. 

"Dragged." 

"Why  don't  God  send  me  a  little  girl  to  play 
.with,  after  me  asking  for  one  every  night,  all 
winter?" 

"  Don't  understand  God's  business,"  replied  At- 
kins briefly. 

"I  puts  it  this  way,"  Brick  spoke  up;  "God's 
done  sent  one  little  girl,  and  it  ain't  right  to  crowd 
Him  too  far." 


io6  LAHOMA 

"  Will  I  be  all  they  is  of  me,  as  long  as  I  live?  " 

"  Nobody  won't  never  come  to  live  in  these 
plains/'  Brick  declared,  "unless  its  trappers  and 
characters  like  us.  But  we'll  stay  by  you,  won't  we, 
Bill  Atkins  ?" 

Atkins  looked  exceedingly  gruff  and  shook  his 
head  as  if  he  had  his  doubts  about  it.  "  You'll 
have  to  be  taken  to  the  States,"  he  declared. 

"  But  what  would  become  of  Brick?  " 

"  Well,  honey,"  said  Brick,  "  you  want  to  take 
your  place  with  people  in  the  big  world,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes! "  cried  Lahoma,  starting  up  and 
stretching  her  arm  toward  the  window.  "  In  the 
big  world  —  yes !  That's  the  place  for  me  —  that's 
where  I  want  to  live.  But  what  will  become  of 
you?" 

"  Well,"  Brick  answered  slowly,  "  the  rock  pile, 
t'other  side  the  mountain  is  good  enough  for  me. 
Your  mother  sleeps  under  it." 

"Oh,  Brick!"  She  caught  his  arm.  "You 
wouldn't  die  if  I  went  away,  would  you?" 

;'  Why,  you  see,  honey,  they  wouldn't  be  noth- 
ing left  to  go  on.  I'd  just  sort  of  stop,  you  know  — . 
but  it  wouldn't  matter  —  out  there  in  the  big  world, 
people  don't  remember  very  long,  and  when  you're 
grown  you  wouldn't  know  there'd  ever  been  a  cove 


GETTING  CIVILIZED  107 

with  a  dugout  in  it,  and  a  window  in  the  wall,  and 
a  Brick  Willock  to  carry  in  the  wood  for  the 
fire." 

"  I'll  always  remember  — •  and  I  won't  go  with- 
out you.  He  could  go  with  me,  couldn't  he,  Bill  ?  " 

*'  I  suspicion  he  has  his  reasons  for  not,"  Atkins 
observed  gravely. 

"  I  has,  and  I  shall  never  go  back  to  the  States." 

"  Then  what's  the  use  civilizing  me  ?  "  demanded 
Lahoma  mournfully. 

"  I  want  you  to  enjoy  yourself.  And  when  I'm 
old  and  no-'count,  you'd  need  somebody  to  take 
care  of  you  —  and  you'd  go  full-equipped  and  ready 
to  stand  up  to  any  civilized  person  that  tried  to  run 
a  bluff  on  you." 

"  But,  oh,  I  want  to  go  —  I  want  to  go  out  there 
' —  where  there  ain't  no  plains  and  alkali  and  buffalo- 
grass  —  where  they's  pavements  and  policemen  and 
people  in  beautiful  clothes.  I  don't  mean  now,  I 
mean  when  I  have  got  civilized."  She  drew  herself 
up  proudly.  "  I  wouldn't  go  till  I  was  civilized,  till 
I  was  like  them."  She  turned  impulsively  to 
Brick:  "  But  you've  got  to  go  with  me  when  I 
go!  I'm  going  to  stay  with  you  till  I'm  fit  to  go, 
and  then  you're  going  to  stay  with  me  the  rest  of 
my  life." 


io8  LAHOMA 

"Am  I  fit  to  go  with  her?"  Brick  appealed  to 
Bill  Atkins. 

"  You  ain't,"  Bill  replied. 

"  I  ain't  fit,"  Brick  declared  firmly.  "  I'm  a-go- 
ing to  fitten  you;  but  it's  too  late  to  work  on  me; 
and  besides,  if  they  was  time  enough,  it  ain't  to  the 
grain  of  my  nature.  I  knows  all  I  wants  to  know, 
which  if  little  or  much  is  enough  for  me.  And  I 
wouldn't  be  fit  to  go  with  you  out  into  the  big 
world  and  cut  a  figger  in  it,  which  couldn't  be  no 
figger  but  a  figger  naught.  And  Atkins  who  knows 
more  than  me,  he  says  the  same." 

The  tears  were  in  Lahoma's  eyes.  She  looked 
from  one  to  the  other,  her  little  face  deeply  troubled. 
Suddenly  she  grabbed  up  her  books  and  started  to- 
ward the  stove.  "  Then  this  here  civilizing  is  go- 
ing to  stop,"  she  declared. 

"  Lahoma !  "  Brick  cried  in  dismay. 

"Yes,  it  is  —  unless  you  promise  to  stay  with 
me  when  I  go  to  live  in  the  big  world." 

"  Honey,  I'll  promise  you  this :  When  you  are 
ready  to  live  out  there,  I'll  sure  go  with  you  and  stay 
with  you  —  if  you  want  me,  when  the  time  comes." 

Lahoma  seized  his  hand,  and  jumped  up  and 
down  in  delight. 

"  It's  a  safe  promise,"  remarked  Bill  Atkins  dryly. 


CHAPTER  IX 

A   YOUNG   MAN'S   FANCY 

ONE  evening  in  May,  a  tall  lithe  figure  crept 
along  the  southern  base  of  the  mountain  range, 
following  its  curves  with  cautious  feet  as  if  fearful 
of  discovery.  He  was  a  young  man  of  twenty-one 
or  two,  bronzed,  free  of  movement,  agile  of  step. 
His  face  was  firm,  handsome  and  open,  although  at 
present  a  wish  to  escape  observation  caused  the 
kazel  eyes  to  dart  here  and  there  restlessly,  while 
the  mouth  tightened  in  an  aspect  of  sternness.  This 
air  of  wild  resolution  was  heightened  by  the  cow- 
boy's ordinary  garments,  and  the  cowboy's  indis- 
pensable belt  well-stocked  with  weapons. 

On  reaching  the  spur  that  formed  the  western  jaw 
of  the  horseshoe,  he  crept  on  hands  and  knees,  but 
satisfied  by  searching  glances  that  the  inner  expanse 
was  deserted,  he  half  rose  and  stole  shadow-like 
along  the  granite  wall,  until  he  had  reached  the  hill- 
island  that  concealed  the  cove.  Again  falling  on 
hands  and  knees,  he  drew  himself  slowly  up  among 

the  huge  flat  rocks  that  covered  the  hill  in  all  di- 

109 


no  LAHOMA 

rections.  In  a  brief  time  he  had  traversed  it,  and 
a  view  of  the  cove  was  suddenly  unrolled  below. 
A  few  yards  from  Brick  Willock's  dugout,  now 
stood  a  neat  log  cabin,  and  not  far  from  the  door 
of  this  cabin  was  a  girl  of  about  fifteen,  seated  on 
the  grass. 

She  had  been  reading,  but  her  book  had  slipped 
to  her  feet.  With  hands  clasped  about  her  knee, 
and  head  tilted  back,  she  was  watching  the  lazy 
white  clouds  that  stretched  like  wisps  of  scattered 
cotton  across  the  blue  field  of  the  sky.  At  first  the 
young  man  was  startled  by  the  impression  that  she 
had  discovered  his  presence  and  was  scrutinizing  his 
position,  but  a  second  glance  reassured  him,  and  he 
stretched  himself  where  a  block  of  granite  and,  be- 
low it,  a  cedar  tree,  effectually  protected  him  from 
discovery.  Thus  hidden,  he  stared  at  the  girl  un- 
blinkingly. 

He  was  like  a  thirsty  traveler  drinking  at  a  cool 
well  unexpectedly  discovered  in  a  desert  country. 
For  two  years  he  had  led  the  life  of  the  cowboy, 
exiled  from  his  kind,  going  with  the  boys  from 
lower  Texas  to  Kansas  along  the  Chisholm  Trail, 
overseeing  great  herds  of  cattle,  caring  for  them  day 
and  night,  scarcely  ever  under  a  roof,  even  that  of 
a  dugout.  Through  rain  and  storm,  the  ground  had 


A  YOUNG  MAN'S  FANCY  in 

been  his  bed,  and  many  a  blistering  summer  day  a 
pony  captured  wild  from  the  plains,  and  broken  to 
stand  like  a  dog,  had  been  his  only  shade.  During 
these  two  years  of  hard  life,  reckless  companions 
and  exacting  duties,  he  had  easily  slipped  into  the 
grooves  of  speech  and  thought  common  to  his  fel- 
lows. Only  his  face,  his  unconscious  movements 
and  accents,  distinguished  him  from  the  other  boys 
of  "Old  Man  Walker"— the  boss  of  the  "  G-Bar 
Outfit."  On  no  other  condition  but  that  of  ap- 
parent assimilation  could  he  have  retained  his  place 
with  Walker's  ranchmen;  and  in  his  efforts  to  re- 
move as  quickly  as  possible  the  reproach  of  tender- 
foot it  was  not  his  fault  that  he  had  retained  the 
features  of  a  different  world,  or  that  a  certain  air, 
not  of  the  desert,  was  always  breaking  through  the 
crust  under  which  he  would  have  kept  his  real  self 
out  of  sight.  He  himself  was  the  least  conscious 
that  this  was  so. 

For  two  years  he  had  seen  no  one  like  the  girl 
of  the  cove,  none  —  though  he  had  seen  women  and 
girls  of  the  settlements,  often  enough  —  who  even 
suggested  her  kind.  Her  dress,  indeed,  was  plain 
enough,  and  obviously  chosen  in  cheerful  ignorance 
of  forms  and  conventions,  though  the  color,  a  deli- 
cate pink,  was  all  he  could  have  wished.  After  all, 


H2  LAHOMA 

the  clothes  revealed  nothing  except  absence  from  city 
shops  and  city  standards. 

That  was  wonderful  hair,  its  brown  tresses  gleam- 
ing though  untouched  by  the  sun,  as  if  in  it  were 
enmeshed  innumerable  particles  of  light.  It  seemed 
to  glow  from  its  very  fineness,  its  silkiness  —  the 
kind  of  hair  one  is  prompted  to  touch,  to  feel  if  it  is 
really  that  way!  The  face  was  more- wonderful, 
because  it  told  many  things  that  can  not  be  expressed 
in  mere  hair-language.  There  was  the  seal  of  in- 
nocence on  the  lips,  the  proof  of  fearlessness  in  the 
eyes,  the  touch  of  thought  on  the  brow,  the  sign 
of  purpose  about  the  resolute  little  chin.  The 
slender  brown  hands  spoke  of  life  in  the  open  air, 
and  the  glow  of  the  cheeks  told  of  burning  suns. 
Her  form,  her  attitude,  spoke  not  only  of  instinc- 
tive grace,  but  of  a  certain  wildness  in  admirable 
harmony  with  the  surrounding  scene.  Somehow, 
the  ruggedness  of  the  mountains  and  the  desolate 
solitudes  of  the  plains  were  reflected  from  her  face. 

The  young  man  gazed  as  if  his  thirst  would  never 
be  appeased.  The  flavor  of  nights  about  the  camp- 
fire  and  other  nights  spent  in  driving  sleet,  also  days 
when  the  first  flowers  come  and  the  wide  beds  of 
the  desert  rivers  are  swollen  with  overbrimming 
floods;  the  cruel  exposure  of  winter,  the  thrilling 


A  YOUNG  MAN'S  FANCY,  113 

balminess  of  early  spring  —  all  spoke  to  him  again 
from  that  motionless  figure.  He  recalled  com- 
panions of  his  boyhood  and  youth,  but  they  were 
not  akin  to  this  child  of  the  desert  mountains. 
Still  more  alien  were  those  of  the  saloon  stations, 
the  haunts  at  the  outskirts  of  civilization.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  in  this  young  girl,  who  had  the  look 
and  poise  of  a  woman,  he  had  found  what  hitherto 
he  had  vainly  sought  in  the  wilderness —  the  beauty 
and  the  charm  of  it,  refined  and  separated  from  its 
sordidness  and  its  uncouthness  —  in  a  word,  from 
all  that  was  base  and  ugly.  It  was  for  this  that 
he  had  left  his  home  in  the  East.  Here  was  typified 
that  loveliness  of  the  unbroken  wilderness  with- 
out its  profanity,  its  drunkenness,  its  obscenity,  its 
terrible  hardships. 

At  last  he  tore  himself  away,  retraced  his  steps 
as  cautiously  as  he  had  come,  and  flung  himself 
upon  the  pony  left  waiting  at  a  sheltered  nook  far 
from  the  cove.  As  he  sped  over  the  plains  toward 
the  distant  herd,  it  came  to  him  suddenly'  in  a  way 
not  before  experienced,  that  it  was  May,  that  the 
air  was  balmy  and  fragrant,  and  that  the  land, 
softly  lighted  in  the  clear  twilight,  was  singularly 
beautiful.  He  seemed  breathing  the  roses  back 
home  —  which  recalled  another  face,  but  not  for 


n4  LAHOMA 

long.  The  last  time  he  had  seen  that  eastern  face, 
the  dew  had  lain  on  the  early  morning  roses  —  how 
could  a  face  so  different  make  him  think  of  them? 
But  imagination  is  sometimes  a  bold  robber,  and 
now  it  did  not  hesitate  to  steal  those  memories  of 
sweet  scents  to  encloud  the  picture  of  the  mountain- 
girl. 

The  G-Bar  headquarters  was  on  the  western  bank 
of  what  was  then  known  as  Red  River,  but  was 
really  the  North  Fork  of  Red  River.  "  Old  Man 
Walker,"  who  was  scarcely  past  middle  age,  had 
built  his  corral  on  the  margin  of  the  plain  which  ex- 
tended to  that  point  in  an  unbroken  level  from  a 
great  distance,  and  which,  having  reached  that  point, 
dropped  without  warning,  a  sheer  precipice,  to  an 
extensive  lake.  The  lake  was  fed  by  springs  is- 
suing from  the  bluffs;  not  far  beyond  it  and  not 
much  lower,  was  the  bed  of  the  river,  wide,  very 
red  and  almost  dry.  Beyond  the  river  rose  the 
bold  hills  of  the  Kiowa  country,  a  white  line  chiseled 
across  the  face  of  each,  as  if  Time  had  entertained 
some  thought  of  their  destruction,  but  finding  each 
a  huge  block  of  living  rock,  had  passed  on  to  tor- 
ture and  shift  and  alter  the  bed  of  the  river. 

The  young  man  reached  the  corral  after  a  ride  of 
twelve  or  thirteen  miles,  most  of  the  distance  through 


tA  YOUNG  MAN'S  FANCY  115 

• 

a  country  of  difficult  sand.  He  galloped  up  to  the 
rude  enclosure,  surrounded  by  a  cloud  of  dust 
through  which  his  keen  gray  eyes  discovered  M!izzoo 
on  the  eve  of  leaving  camp.  Mizzoo  was  one  of  the 
men  whose  duty  it  was  to  ride  the  line  all  night 
—  the  line  that  the  young  man  had  guarded  all 
day  —  to  keep  Walker's  cattle  from  drifting. 

"  Come  on,  Mizz,"  called  the  young  man,  as  the 
other  swung  upon  his  broncho,  "  I'm  going  back 
with  you." 

The  lean,  leather-skinned,  sandy-mustached  cat- 
tleman uttered  words  not  meet  for  print,  but  ex- 
pressive of  hearty  pleasure.  "Ain't  you  had 
enough  of  it,  Bill?"  he  added.  "I'd  think  you'd 
want  to  lay  up  for  to-morrow's  work." 

"  Oh,  I  ain't  sleepy,"  the  young  man  declared,  as 
they  rode  away  side  by  side.  "  I  couldn't  close  an 
eye  to-night  —  and  I  want  to  talk." 

The  cattleman  chuckled  enjoy ingly.  It  was 
lonely  and  monotonous  work,  riding  back  and  forth 
through  the  darkness,  keeping  a  sharp  lookout  for 
wolves  or  Indians,  driving  straggling  cattle  back  to 
the  herd,  in  brief,  doing  the  picket  duty  of  the 
plains. 

Mizzoo  was  so  called  from  his  habit  of  attributing 
his  most  emphatic  aphorisms  to  "his  aunt,  Miss 


n6  LAHOMA 

Sue  of  Missouri  " —  a  lady  held  by  his  companions 
to  be  a  purely  fictitious  character,  a  convenient 
"  Mrs.  Harris "  to  give  weight  to  sayings  worn 
smooth  from  centuries  of  use. 

Of  all  the  boys  of  the  ranch,  Mizzoo  found  Wil- 
fred Compton  most  companionable.  When  off  duty, 
they  were  usually  to  be  found  near  each  other, 
whether  awake  or  asleep ;  and  when  Mizzoo,  on  en- 
tering some  village  at  the  edge  of  the  desert,  sought 
relaxation  from  a  life  of  routine  by  shooting  through 
the  windows  and  spurring  his  pony  into  the  saloons, 
it  was  the  young  man,  commonly  known  as  Bill, 
who  lingered  behind  to  advance  money  for  dam- 
ages to  the  windows,  or  who  kept  close  to  the 
drunken  ranger  in  order  to  repair  the  damages  Miz- 
zoo had  done  to  his  own  soul  and  body. 

"I'll  talk  my  head  off,"  Mizzoo  declared,  "if 
that'll  keep  you  on  the  move  with  me,  for  it's  one 
thing  meeting  a  ghost  in  the  desert  all  alone,  and 
quite  another  when  there's  a  pair  of  us.  Yes,  I 
know  you  don't  believe  nothing  I  say  about  that 
spirit,  and  I  only  hope  we'll  come  on  it  to-night! 
It  ain't  been  a  week  since  I  see  something  creeping 
along  behind  me  whilst  I  was  riding  the  line,  a  little 
thing  as  swift  as  a  jack-rabbit  and  as  sly  as  a  coyote 


A  YOUNG  MAN'S  FANCY, 

—  something  with  long  arms  and  short  legs  and 
the  face  of  an  Injun  — " 

"Of  course  it  was  an  Indian,"  returned  the  young 
man  carelessly.  "  He  is  hanging  about  here  to  steal 
some  of  our  horses.  I  don't  want  you  to  talk  about 
your  ghost,  I've  heard  of  him  a  thousand  times." 

"  Bill,  the  more  you  talk  about  a  ghost,  the  more 
impressive  he  gets.  I  tell  you  that  wasn't  no  live 
Injun!  Didn't  I  blaze  away  at  him  with  my  six- 
shooter  and  empty  all  my  barrels  for  nothing?  No, 
sir,  it's  the  same  spirit  that  haunts  the  trail  from 
Vernon,  Texas,  to  Coffeyville.  I've  shot  at  that  red 
devil  this  side  of  Fort  Sill,  and  at  Skeleton  Spring, 
and  at  Bull  Foot  Spring,  and  a  mile  from  Doan's 
store  —  always  at  night,  for  it  never  rises  except  at 
night,  a^  L:fits  a  good  ghost.  I  reckon  I'll  waste 
cartridges  on  that  spook  as  long  as  I  hit  the  trail, 
but  I  don't  never  expect  to  draw  blood.  Others  has 
saw  him,  too,  but  me  more  especial.  I  reckon  I'm 
the  biggest  sinner  of  the  G-Bar  and  has  to  be  plagued 
most  frequent  with  visitations  to  make  me  a  better 
man  when  I  get  to  be  old." 

"He's  a  knowing  old  ghost  if  He's  found  you 
out,  Mizzoo,  but  if  you  want  my  company,  to- 
night, you'll  drop  the  Indian.  What  I  want  you 


n8  LAHOMA 

to  talk  about  is  that  little  girl  you  met  on  the  trail 
down  in  Texas,  seven  years  ago." 

Mizzoo  burst  out  in  a  hearty  laugh.  "  I  reckon 
it  suits  you  better  to  take  her  as  a  little  kid,"  he 
cried,  his  tall  form  shaking  convulsively.  "  I'll 
never  forget  how  you  looked,  Bill,  when  we  tried 
to  run  a  bluff  on  her  daddy  last  month ! " 

The  other  did  not  answer  with  a  smile.  Ap- 
parently the  reminiscence  pleased  him  less  than  it 
did  the  older  man.  He  spurred  his  horse  impa- 
tiently, and  it  plunged  forward  through  the  drifted 
banks  of  white  sand. 

Mizzoo  hastened  to  overtake  him,  still  chuckling. 
"  Old  Man  Walker  never  knowed  what  a  proposition 
he  was  handing  us  when  he  ordered  us  to  drive  the 
old  mountain-lion  out  of  *ns  lair!  Looks  like  the 
six  of  us  ought  to  have  don^  the  trick.  Them  other 
fellows  looked  as  wild  as  bears,  and  you  was  just 
like  a  United  States  soldier  marching  on  a  Mexican 
strongholt,  not  stopping  at  nothing,  and  it  ain't  for 
me  to  say  how  brave  /  done.  Pity  you  and  me  was 
at  the  tail-end  of  the  attacking  party.  Fust  thing 
we  knowed,  them  other  four  galoot?  was  falling 
backwards  a-getting  out  of  that  trap  of  a  cove,  and 
the  bullets  was  whizzing  about  our  ears  — " 

He  broke  off  to  shout  with  laughter.     "And  it 


A  YOUNG  MAN'S  FANCY  119 

was  all  done  by  one  old  settler  and  his  gal,  them 
standing  out  open  and  free  with  their  breech- 
loaders, and  us  hiking  out  for  camp  like  whipped 
curs!" 

The  young  man  was  impatient,  but  he  compelled 
himself  to  speak  calmly.  "  As  I  never  got  around 
the  spur  of  the  mountain  before  you  fellows  were 
in  full  retreat,  I  object  to  being  classed  with  the 
whipped  curs,  and  you'll  bear  that  in  mind,  M'izzoo. 
You  saw  the  girl  all  right,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  You  bet  I  did,  and  as  soon  as  I  see  her,  I 
knowed  it  was  the  same  I'd  came  across  on  the  trail, 
seven  year  ago.  I'd  have  knowed  it  from  her  daddy, 
of  course,  but  there  wasn't  no  mistaking  her.  Her 
daddy  give  it  to  us  plain  that  if  he  ever  catched  one 
of  us  inside  his  cove  he'd  kill  us  like  so  many  coy- 
otes, and  I  reckon  he  would.  Well,  he's  got  as  much 
right  to  his  claim  as  anybody  else  —  this  land  don't 
belong  to  nobody,  and  there  he's  been  a-squatting 
considerable  longer  than  we've  laid  out  this  ranch. 
He  was  in  the  right  of  it,  but  what  I  admire  was 
his  being  able  to  hold  his  rights.  Lots  of  folks  has 
rights  but  they  ain't  man  enough  to  hold  'em.  And 
if  you  could  have  seen  that  gal,  her  eyes  like  two 
big  burning  suns,  and  her  mouth  closed  like  a  steel- 
trap,  and  her  hand  as  steady  on  that  trigger  as  the 


120  LAHOMA 

mountain  rock  behind  her!  Lord,  Bill!  what  a 
trembly,  knock-kneed,  meaching  sort  of  a  husband 
she's  a-going  to  fashion  to  her  hand,  one  of  these 
days!  But  pretty f  None  more  so.  And  a-going 
all  to  waste  out  here  in  the  desert ! " 

They  rode  on  for  some  time  in  silence,  save  for 
the  intermittent  chuckling  of  the  cattleman  as  vi- 
sions of  his  companions'  pale  faces  and  scurrying 
forms  rose  before  his  mind. 

"  And  now  about  that  child,  seven  years  ago,"  the 
young  man  said,  when  the  last  hoarse  sound  of  mirth 
had  died  away. 

"  Why,  yes,  me  and  the  boys  was  bringing  about 
two  thousand  head  up  to  Abiline  when  we  come  on  to 
this  same  pardner  and  another  man  walking  the 
trail,  with  a  little  gal  coming  behind  'em  on  her 
pony.  And  it  was  this  same  gal.  I  reckon  she 
was  seven  or  eight  year  old,  then.  Well,  sir,  I 
just  thought  as  I  looked  at  her,  that  I  never  seen 
a  prettier  sight  in  this  world  and  I  reckon  I  ain't, 
for  when  I  looked  at  the  same  gal  the  other  day, 
the  gun  she  was  holding  up  to  her  eye  sort  of 
dazzled  me  so  I  couldn't  take  stock  of  all  her  good 
points.  But  seeing  that  little  gal  out  there  in  the 
plains  —  it  was  like  hearing  an  old-fashioned  hymn 
at  the  country  meeting-house  and  knowing  a  big 


A  YOUNG  MAN'S  FANCY  121 

basket  dinner  was  to  follow.  I  can't  express  it 
more  deep  than  that.  We  went  into  camp  that  even- 
ing, and  all  of  us  got  pretty  soft  and  mellow,  what 
from  the  unusualness  of  the  meeting,  and  we  asked 
the  old  codger  if  we  could  all  come  over  to  his 
camp  and  shake  hands  with  the  gal  —  he'd  drawcd 
back  from  us  about  a  mile,  he  was  that  skeered  to 
be  sociable.  So  after  considerable  haggling  and 
jawing,  he  said  we  could,  and  here  we  come,  just 
about  sundown,  all  of  us  looking  sheepish  enough 
to  be  carved  for  mutton,  but  everlasting  determined 
to  take  that  gal  by  the  paw." 

"Well?"  said  the  young  man  who  had  often 
heard  this  story,  but  had  never  been  treated  to  the 
sequel,  "what  happened  then,  Mizzoo?  You  al- 
ways stop  at  the  same  place.  Didn't  you  shake 
hands  with  her?" 

The  other  ruminated  in  Heep  silence  for  some 
time,  then  rejoined,  "  I  don't  know  how  it  is  —  a 
fellow  can  talk  about  the  worst  devilment  in  creation 
with  a  free  rein,  and  no  words  hot  enough  to  blister 
his  tongue,  but  let  him  run  up  against  something 
simple  like  that,  and  the  bottom  of  his  lungs  seems 
to  fall  out.  I  guess  they  ain't  no  more  to  be  told. 
That  was  all  there  was  to  it,  though  I  might  add 
that  the  next  day  we  come  along  by  old  Whisky 


122  LAHOMA 

Simeon's  joint  that  sets  out  on  the  sand-hills,  you 
know,  and  we  put  spurs  to  our  bronks  and  went 
whooping  by,  with  old  Whisky  Sim  a-staring  and 
a-hollering  after  us  like  he  thought  we  was  crazy. 
I  don't  know  as  I  had  missed  a  drunk  before  for 
five  year,  when  the  materials  was  ready- found  for 
its  making.  And  I  ain't  never  forgot  the  little  kid 
with  the  brown  hair  and  the  eyes  that  seen  to  your 
bottom  layer,  like  a  water-witch  a-penetrating  the 
ground  with  a  glance,  seeing  through  dirt  and  clay 
and  rocks  to  what  water  they  is." 

Mizzoo  relapsed  into  meditative  silence,  and  the 
young  man,  in  sympathy  with  his  mood,  kept  at  his 
side,  no  longer  asking  questions.  Darkness  came 
on  and  the  hour  grew  late  but  few  words  were  ex- 
changed as  they  rode  the  weary  miles  that  marked 
the  limit  of  the  range.  There  were  the  usual  in- 
cidents of  such  work,  each  bringing  its  customary 
comments.  The  midnight  luncheon  beside  a  small 
fire,  over  which  the  coffee  steamed,  roused  some- 
thing like  cheerful  conversation  which,  however, 
flickered  and  flared  uncertainly  like  the  bonfire.  On 
the  whole  the  young  man  was  unwontedly  reserved, 
and  the  other,  perceiving  it,  fell  back  contentedly 
on  his  own  resources  —  pleasant  memories  and  rank 
tobacco. 


A  YOUNG  MAN'S  FANCY  123 

"  Guess  I'll  leave  you  now,"  remarked  the  young 
man,  when  the  fire  had  died  away. 

"  Yes,  better  turn  in,  for  you're  most  uncommon 
dull  you  know,"  Mizzoo  replied  frankly.  "  'Twould 
be  just  about  as  much  company  for  me  if  you'd 
hike  out  and  leave  me  your  picture  to  carry  along." 

Instead  of  taking  the  direction  toward  the  river, 
the  young  man  set  out  at  a  gallop  for  the  distant 
mountain  range  which,  in  the  gloom,  seemed  not 
far  away.  After  an  hour's  hard  riding,  he  reached 
it.  His  impatience  had  made  that  hour  seem  almost 
interminable,  yet  it  had  not  been  long  enough  to 
furnish  him  with  any  clear  reason  for  having  come. 
If,  as  Mizzoo  had  declared,  he  needed  sleep,  he 
wr>uld  surely  not  think  of  finding  it  near  the  cove 
from  which  his  companions  had  been  warned  under 
penalty  of  death.  If  drawn  by  longing  for  another 
glimpse  of  the  girl  of  the  cove  he  could  not  expect 
to  see  her  an  hour  or  two  after  midnight.  Yet  here 
he  was,  attracted,  and  still  urged  on,  by  impulses 
he  did  not  attempt  to  resist. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   FLAG   OF   TRUCE 

EARLIEST  dawn  found  the  young  man  seated 
composedly  upon  one  of  the  flattened  outcrop- 
pings  of  the  hill  of  stone  that  lay  like  an  island 
between  the  outer  plain  and  the  sheltered  cove.  As 
yet,  there  was  no  sign  of  life  within  the  cove  — 
both  the  dugout  and  the  cabin  of  cedar  logs  were 
as  silent  and  as  void  of  movement  as  the  rocks  be- 
hind them.  The  young  man  watched  first  one,  then 
the  other,  as  tireless  and  vigilant  as  if  he  had  not 
been  awake  for  twenty- four  hours. 

Jt  was  the  dugout  that  first  started  from  its  night's 
repose.  Before  the  sun  showed  itself  over  the  rim 
of  the  prairie,  long  before  its  rays  darted  over  the 
distant  mountain-crest,  the  door  was  thrown  away 
from  the  casing,  and  a  great  uncouth  man,  strong 
as  a  giant,  and  wild  of  aspect  as  a  savage,  strode 
forth,  gun  in  hand,  his  eyes  sweeping  the  landscape 
in  quick  flashing  glances.  Almost  instantly  he  dis- 
covered the  figure  perched  on  the  granite  block  over- 

124 


THE  FLAG  OF  TRUCE  125 

looking   his    retreat.     He   raised   his   gun   to   his 
shoulder. 

The  young  man  fell  sidewise  behind  the  rocks  and 
a  bullet  clipped  the  edge  of  his  barricade.  Remain- 
ing supine,  he  fastened  his  handkerchief  to  the  end 
of  his  whip  and  waved  it  above  the  rampart.  Hav- 
ing thus  manifested  his  peaceful  intent,  he  rose,  still 
holding  the  flag  of  truce  above  his  head,  and  re- 
mained motionless.  Brick  Willock  stared  at  him 
for  a  moment  in  hostile  indecision,  then  strode  for- 
ward. At  the  same  time,  an  old  man,  thin,  tall 
and  white-haired,  issued  from  the  dugout  evidently 
attracted  by  the  gunshot;  and  soon  after,  the  cabin 
door  opened,  and  the  girl  of  the  cove  looked  out 
inquiringly. 

Hn  the  meantime  the  young  man  slowly  descended 
the  hill  to  the  oval  valley,  while  Willock  hurried 
forward  to  meet  him. 

"Don't  you  come  no  futher!"  Willock  com- 
manded, threatening  with  his  gun.  "Keep  your 
hands  above  your  head  until  I  can  ship  your  cargo." 

Obediently  he  stood  while  the  great  whiskered  fel- 
low took  the  weapons  from  his  belt,  and  dived  into 
his  hip  pockets. 

"That'll  do.     Now  —  what  do  you  want?" 

"  It's  hard  to  put  it  into  a  few  words,"  the  other 


126  LAHOMA 

complained.  "  I'd  like  to  have  a  little  talk  with 
you." 

"  You  are  one  of  them  fellows  that  come  here  to 
run  us  out  of  the  country,  ain't  you?  I  don't  re- 
member seeing  you,  but  I  guess  you  belong  to  the 
bunch  over  on  Red  River.  Well,  you  see  we're 
still  here,  meaning  to  stay.  Are  your  pards  outside 
there,  waiting  for  a  message?  " 

"  Nobody  knows  I'm  here,  or  thought  of  coming. 
Let  me  put  that  affair  in  its  true  light.  The  boys  are 
all  under  our  boss,  and  when  he  lays  down  the  law 
it  isn't  for  us  to  argue  with  him  —  we  carry  out 
orders  *— " 

"  Unless  there's  a  Brick  Willock  involved  in  them 
orders,"  returned  the  man,  with  a  grim  smile. 

"  But  it's  our  duty  to  try  to  carry  out  the  orders, 
whether  we  like  'em  or  not.  So  you  won't  hold  that 
against  me  —  that  little  scrimmage  of  last  month, 
especially  as  you  came  out  best  man." 

"I  used  to  have  a  boss,  myself,"  Willock  spoke 
uncompromisingly.  "But  when  he  give  me  certain 
orders,  one  particular  night  that  I  recollect,  I 
knocked  him  on  the  head  and  put  out  for  other 
parts.  You  must  of  thought  yourself  in  pretty  busi- 
ness coming  over  here  to  take  away  the  land  and  all 
on  it,  that's  belonged  to  me  for  nine  years,  and  no- 


THE  FLAG  OF  TRUCE  127 

body  never  having  tried  to  prize  me  out  of  it  ex- 
cept some  trifling  Injuns  and  horse-thieves.  Ain't 
they  no  honesty  in  the  world?  Hasn't  no  man  his 
property  rights?  I  guess  your  boss  knowed  this 
wasn't  his  land,  didn't  he?  What's  going  to  be- 
come of  this  country  when  man  isn't  satisfied  with 
what  is  his'n?  Well,  now  you've  had  a  little  talk 
with  me,  and  hoping  you've  enjoyed  it,  you  can  just 
mosey  along.  I'll  send  your  weapons  after  you  by 
a  messenger." 

The  young  man  cast  a  despairing  glance  toward 
the  girl  who  stood  like  a  statue  in  her  doorway, 
gravely  listening.  The  man  with  the  bushy  white 
hair  had  drawn  near,  but  evidently  with  no  thought 
of  interfering. 

"  Willock,"  the  voice  came  so  eager,  so  impetu- 
ous, that  the  words  were  somewhat  incoherent, 
"  I've  got  to  talk  to  your  daughter  —  hold  on,  don't 
shoot,  listen!  —  that's  what  I've  come  for,  to  see 
her  and  —  and  meet  her  and  hear  her  voice.  I  can't 
help  it,  can  I  ?  It's  been  two  long  years  since  I  left 
home,  back  East,  and  in  all  these  two  years  I've 
never  seen  anything  like  your  little  girl  and  —  and 
what  harm  can  it  do?  I  say!  Have  pity  on  a  fel- 
low, and  do  him  the  biggest  favor  he  could  enjoy 
on  this  earth  when  it  won't  cost  you  a  penny,  or  a 


128  LAHOMA 

turn  of  your  hand.  Look  here  —  hold  on,  don't 
turn  away!  —  I'm  just  so  lonesome,  so  homesick, 
so  dead  killed  by  all  these  sand-hills  and  alkali  beds 
and  nothing  to  talk  to  from  one  year's  end  to  the 
next  but  men  and  cattle.  „  .  ." 

Willock  glared  at  him  in  silence,  fingering  the  trig- 
ger thoughtfully. 

{t  There  I've  sat,  on  that  hill,"  he  continued, 
"  since  two  o'clock  last  night,  waiting  for  daylight 
so  I  could  ask  you  to  help  a  miserable  wretch  that's 
just  starving  to  death  for  the  sound  of  a  girl's 
voice,  and  the  sight  of  a  girl's  smile.  Isn't  this 
square,  waiting  for  you,  and  telling  you  the  whole 
truth?  I  never  saw  her  but  once,  and  that  was 
from  this  same  hill.  She  didn't  know  I  was  watch- 
ing ;  it  was  yesterday.  Maybe  all  I'm  saying  sounds 
just  crazy  to  you,  and  I  reckon  I  am  out  of  my 
senses,  but  until  I  saw  her  I  didn't  know  how  heart- 
sick I  was  of  the  whole  business." 

"  It  is  kinder  lonesome,"  remarked  the  other 
gruffly.  He  lowered  his  gun  and  leaned  on  it,  ir- 
resolutely. '  You've  sure  touched  me  in  the  right 
spot,  son,  for  I  knows  all  you  mean  and  more  that 
you  ain't  even  ever  dreampt  of.  But  you  see,  we 
don't  know  nothing  about  your  name,  your  char- 
acter, if  you've  got  one,  nor  what  you  really  in- 


THE  FLAG  OF  TRUCE  129 

tends.  I  like  your  looks  and  the  way  you  talk,  fine, 
just  fine,  but  I've  saw  bobcats  that  was  mighty  sleek 
and  handsome  when  they  didn't  know  I  was  nigh." 

"  My  name  in  Wilfred  Compton.  I  —  I  have  a 
letter  or  two  in  my  pocket  that  I  got  a  long  time  ago ; 
they'd  tell  something  about  me  but  I'd  rather  not 
show  'em,  as  they're  private — " 

"  From  your  gal,  I  reckon?  "  asked  Willock  more 
mildly. 

"Yes,"  he  answered  gloomily. 

"Carried  'em  as  long  as  a  year?" 

"  Nearly  two  years." 

"Mean  to  still  lug  'em  around?" 

"Of  course  I'm  going  to  keep  'em."    , 

"Well,  I  don't  deny  that's  pretty  favorable. 
Now  look  here,  son,  I've  been  half -crazy  from  lone- 
someness,  and  I  don't  believe  I've  got  the  heart  to 
send  you  away.  That  gal  of  ours  —  she's  just  a 
kid,  you  understand.  .  .  .  Now  you  wouldn't 
be  taking  up  no  idea  that  she  was  what  you'd  clas- 
sify as  a  young  lady,  or  anything  like  that,  eh  ?  " 

"Of  course  not  —  she's  fifteen  or  sixteen,  I  should 
think.  Upon  my  honor,  Willock,  any  thought  of 
sentiment  or  romance  is  a  thousand  miles  from  my 
mind." 

"  Yes,  just  so.     But  such  thoughts  travels  power- 


<3Q  LAHOMA 

f ul  fast ;  don't  take  'em  long  to  lap  over  a  thousand 
mile." 

"  But  it's  because  she  is  a  young  girl,  fresh  and 
unartificial  as  the  mountain  breezes,  that  I  want  to 
be  with  her  for  a  little  while  —  yes,  get  to  know 
her,  if  I  may." 

Willock  turned  to  the  taciturn  old  man  standing 
a  little  behind  him.  "  Bill  Atkins,  what  do  you 
say?" 

"  I  say,  fire  him  and  do  it  quick ! "  was  the  in- 
stant rejoinder,  accompanied  by  threatening  twitch- 
ings  of  ,the  huge  white  mustache. 

Willock  was  not  convinced.  "  Son,  if  you  sets 
here  till  we  have  had  our  breakfast,  and  has  held 
a  caucus  over  you,  I'll  bring  you  the  verdict  in  about 
an  hour.  If  you  don't  like  that,  they's  nothing 
to  do  but  put  out  for  your  ranch." 

"  I  go  on  duty  at  seven,"  replied  the  young  man 
composedly,  "  but  I  have  a  friend  riding  the  line 
that'll  stay  with  it  till  I  come.  So  I'll  wait  for 
your  caucus." 

"  That  friend  —  one  of  them  devils  I  shot  at  the 
other  day?" 

Wilfred  Compton  smiled  with  sudden  sunniness. 
"  Yes." 

Somewhere  beneath  the  immense  whiskers,  an  an- 


THE  FLAG  OF  TRUCE  131 

swering  smile  slipped  like  a  breeze,  stirring  the  iron- 
gray  hair.  "  I  kinder  believe  in  you,  son !  Nobody 
can't  gainsay  that  you've  played  the  man  in  this 
matter.  Now,  just  one  thing  more.  You  must 
swear  here  before  me,  with  Bill  Atkins  for  an  un- 
willing witness,  that  should  we  let  you  make  the  ac- 
quaintance of  our  little  gal,  and  should  you  get  to  be 
friends,  you  two,  that  the  very  fust  minute  it  comes 
to  you  that  she  ain't  no  little  gal,  but  is  in  the  way  of 
being  food  for  love  —  Bill  Atkins,  air  I  making  my- 
self plain?" 

"  You  ain't/'  returned  the  old  man  sourly. 
'  You're  too  complicated  for  ordinary  use." 

"  Then  you  tell  him  what  I  mean." 

The  old  man  glared  at  Wilfred  fiercely.  "If  we 
decide  to  grant  your  request,  young  man,  swear  on 
your  honor  that  the  second  you  find  yourself  think- 
ing of  our  little  girl  as  a  woman,  to  be  wooed  and 
won,  you'll  put  out,  and  never  stop  till  you're  so  far 
away,  you'll  be  clear  out  of  her  world.  And  not 
one  word  to  her,  not  so  much  as  one  hint,  mind  you, 
as  to  the  reason  of  your  going;  it'll  just  be  good-by 
and  farewell!" 

"  You  see,"  Willock  interpolated,  "  she  is  nothing 
but  a  little  gal,  and  we  don't  want  no  foolish  ideas 
to  the  contrary.  You  takes  her  for  what  she  is, 


LAHOMA 

nothing  took  from  nor  added  to.  In  course,  she'll  be 
growed  up  some  day,  I  reckon,  though  may  the  good 
Lord  take  a  good  long  time  finishing  up  the  work 
He's  begun  so  noble.  When  she's  growed  up,  when 
she's  a  woman,  it  ain't  for  us  to  say  how  you  come 
and  how  you  go,  take  from  or  add  to.  But  while 
she's  a  kid,  it  is  different,  according." 

"  You  have  my  word  of  honor  to  all  these  condi- 
tions," Wilfred  cried  lightly.  "As  a  child  of  the 
mountains  I  ask  for  her  acquaintance.  If  I  should 
ever  feel  differently  about  her,  I'll  go  away  and  stay 
away  until  she's  a  woman.  Surely  that's  enough 
to  promise ! " 

"  There  ain't  too  much  to  promise,  when  it  comes 
to  the  peace  and  happiness  of  our  little  girl,"  re- 
torted the  old  man,  "  but  I  can't  think  of  any  more 
for  you  to  take  oath  to." 

"  Me  nuther,  Bill,"  agreed  Willock.  "  Seems  to 
me  the  young  man  is  bound  as  firm  as  humans  can 
do  the  binding.  Now  you  sit  right  here,  son,  don't 
come  a  step  nigher  the  house,  and  we'll  go  to  break- 
fast; and  later  you'll  know  whether  or  not  all  this 
promising  has  been  idle  waste  of  time." 

"  But  I  can  see  how  it'll  turn  out,"  growled  At- 
kins, "  for  she  is  always  a-looking  for  something 


THE  FLAG  OF  TRUCE  133 

new,  something  out  of  the  big  world  that  she  don't 
know  nothing  about." 

"  Never  mind,  Bill,  don't  give  up  so  quick/'  Wil- 
lock  reproached  him,  as  they  turned  away.  "  She's 
been  having  a  good  look  at  him  all  this  time,  and 
it  may  be  she  have  took  a  distaste  to  him  already." 


\ 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  HALF-OPENED  BUD 

THE  two  men  went  into  the  cabin.  An  hour 
later  they  reappeared,  accompanied  by  the  girl. 
Wilfred  was  still  seated  obediently  on  the  rock,  but 
at  sight  of  them  he  rose  with  a  gay  laugh  and 
advanced. 

"  Come  over  here  in  the  shade,"  Willock  called, 
as  he  strode  toward  a  grassy  bank  that  sloped  up 
to  a  line  of  three  cedar  trees  of  interlocked 
branches.  "  Come  over  here  and  know  her.  This 
is  our  gal." 

Lahoma  looked  at  the  young  man  with  grave  in- 
terest, taking  note  of  his  garments  and  movements 
as  she  might  have  examined  the  skin  and  actions  of 
some  unknown  animal.  Bill  Atkins  also  watched 
him,  but  with  suspicious  eye,  as  if  anticipating  a  sud- 
den spring  on  his  ward. 

"  Set  down,"  said  Willock,  sinking  on  the  grass. 
"  The  last  man  up  is  the  biggest  fool  in  Texas !  " 

Lahoma  and  Wilfred  instantly  dropped  as  if  shot, 
at  the  same  time  breaking  into  unexpected  laughter 

134 


THE  HALF-OPENED  BUD  135 

that  caused  Willock's  beard  to  quiver  sympatheti- 
cally. Bill  Atkins,  sour  and  unresponsive,  stood  as 
stiffly  erect  as  possible,  aided  no  little  in  this  obstinate 
attitude  by  the  natural  unelasticity  of  age. 

The  young  man  exclaimed  boyishly,  still  smiling 
at  the  girl,  "We're  friends  already,  because  we've 
laughed  together." 

;'  Yes/'  cried  Lahoma,  "  and  Brick  is  in  it,  too. 
That's  best  of  all." 

"  /  ain't  in  it,"  cried  Bill  Atkins  so  fiercely  that 
the  young  man  was  somewhat  discomposed. 

"  Now,  Bill,"  exclaimed  the  girl  reprovingly, 
"you  sit  right  down  by  my  side  and  do  this  thing 
right."  She  explained  to  the  young  man,  "  Bill  At- 
kins has  been  higher  up  than  Brick,  and  he  knows 
forms  and  ceremonies,  but  he  despises  to  act  up  to 
what  he  knows.  Sit  right  down,  Bill,  and  make  the 
move."  There  was  something  so  unusual  in  the 
attitude  of  the  blooming  young  girl  toward  the 
weather-beaten,  forbidding-looking  man,  something 
so  authoritative  and  at  the  same  time  so  protecting, 
at  once  the  air  of  a  superior  who  commands  and  who 
shelters  from  the  tyranny  of  others  —  that  Wilfred 
was  both  amused  and  touched. 

"Yes,  Bill,"  said  Willock,  "make  the  move. 
Make  'em  know  each  other." 


136  LAHOMA 

"This  is  Miss  Lahoma  Willock,"  growled  Bill; 
"  and  this  " —  waving  at  the  young  man  disparag- 
ingly — "  says  he  is  Wilfred  Compton.  Know  each 
other!" 

"  I'm  glad  to  know  you,"  Lahoma  declared 
frankly.  "It's  mighty  lucky  you  came  this  way, 
for,  you  see,  I  just  live  here  in  the  cove  and  never 
touch  the  big  world.  I  believe  you  know  a  thousand 
things  about  the  world  that  we  ain't  never  dreamed 
of—" 

" — That  we  have  never  dreamed  of,"  corrected 
Bill  Atkins. 

" —  That  we  have  never  dreamed  of,"  resumed 
Lahoma  meekly ;  "  and  that's  what  I  would  like  to 
hear  about.  I  expect  to  go  out  in  the  big  world  and 
be  a  part  of  it,  when  I  am  older,  when  I  know  how 
to  protect  myself,  Brick  says.  I'm  just  a  little  girl 
now,  if  I  do  look  so  big;  I'm  only  fifteen,  but  when 
I  am  of  age  I'm  going  out  into  the  big  world;  so 
that's  why  I'm  glad  to  know  you,  to  use  you  like  a 
kind  of  dictionary.  Are  you  coming  back  here 
again  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so !  "  he  exclaimed  fervently. 

"And  so  do  I.  In  my  cabin  I  have  a  long  list 
of  things  written  down  in  my  tablet  that  I'd  like  to 
know  about ;  questions  that  come  to  me  as  I  sit  look- 


THE  HALF-OPENED  BUD  137 

ing  over  the  hill  into  the  sky,  things  Brick  doesn't 
know,  and  not  even  Bill  Atkins.  You  going  to  tell 
me  them  there  things?  " 

Bill  interposed :  "  Will  you  kindly  tell  me  those 
things?" 

"Will  you  kindly  tell  me  those  things ?"  La- 
homa  put  the  revised  question  as  calmly  as  if  she 
had  not  suffered  correction. 

"  You  see  how  it  is,  son,"  Willock  remarked 
regretfully ;  "  Lahoma  keeps  pretty  close  to  me,  and 
I'm  always  a-leading  her  along  the  wrong  trails,  not 
having  laid  out  an  extensive  education  when  I  was 
planning  the  grounds  I  calculated  to  live  in.  When 
I  got  anything  to  say,  I  just  follows  the  easiest  way, 
knowing  I'll  get  to  the  end  of  it  if  I  talk  constant. 
People  in  the  big  world  ain't  no  more  natural  in 
talking  than  in  anything  else.  They  builds  up 
fences  and  arbitrary  walls,  and  is  careful  to  stay 
right  in  the  middle  of  the  beaten  path,  and  I'm  all 
time  keeping  Bill  busy  at  putting  up  the  bars  after 
me,  so  Lahoma  will  go  straight." 

"  So  that's  why  I'm  glad  to  know  you,"  Lahoma 
said  gravely.  "But  why  did  you  want  to  know 
me?"  She  fastened  on  him  her  luminous  brown 
eyes,  with  red  lips  parted,  awaiting  the  clearing  up 
of  this  mystery. 


138  LAHOMA 

Wilfred  preserved  a  solemn  countenance,  "  I've 
been  awfully  lonesome,  Lahoma,  the  last  two  years 
because,  up  to  that  time,  I'd  lived  in  a  city  with 
friends  all  about  town  and  no  end  of  gay  times  — 
and  these  last  two  years,  I've  been  in  the  terrible 
desert.  You  are  the  first  girl  I've  seen  that  re- 
minded me  of  home;  when  I  saw  you  and  knew  you 
were  my  kind,  the  way  you  held  yourself  and  the 
smile  in  your  eyes  — " 

Bill  interposed :  "  Don't  you  forget  that  bind- 
ing, young  man !  " 

"Of  course  not.  But  I  don't  know  how  to  tell 
just  what  it  means  to  me  to  be  with  her  —  with  all 
of  you,  I  mean  —  but  her  especially,  because  — 
well,  I  had  so  many  friends  among  the  girls,  back 
home  and  —  and  —  It's  no  use  trying  to  explain ;  if 
you've  known  the  horrible  lonesomeness  of  the 
plains  you  already  understand,  and  if  you 
don't  .  .  ." 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,"  Willock  remarked, 
with  a  reminiscent  sigh. 

"  Let  it  not  be  put  in  words,"  Bill  persisted.  "If 
a  thing  can't  be  expressed,  words  only  mislead.  I 
never  knew  any  good  to  come  of  talking  about 
smiles  in  eyes.  There's  nothing  to  it  but  misleading 
words." 


THE  HALF-OPENED  BUD  139 

"  Go  on,  Lahoma,"  said  Willock  encouragingly, 
"  we're  both  staying  with  you,  to  see  that  you  come 
out  of  this  with  flying  colors.  Just  go  ahead." 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  all  about  yourself,"  remarked 
Lahoma  thoughtfully,  "  because  I  can  see  from  your 
face,  and  the  way  you  talk,  that  you're  a  real  sample 
of  the  big  world.  If  I  tell  you  all  about  myself, 
will  you  do  the  same  ?  " 

Wilfred  promised,  and  Lahoma  entered  on  the  his- 
tory of  her  childhood.  Wilfred  looked  and  listened 
joyously,  conscious  of  the  unusual  scene,  alive  to  the 
subtle  charm  of  her  fearless  eyes,  her  unreserved 
confidences,  the  melting  harmony  of  her  musical 
tones.  To  be  sure,  she  was  only  a  child,  but  he  saw 
already  the  promise  of  the  woman.  The  petals  as 
yet  were  closed,  but  the  faint  sweet  fragrance  was 
already  astir.  He  found,  too,  that  in  her  nature 
was  already  developed  something  not  akin  to  youth, 
something  impersonal,  having  nothing  to  do  with 
one's  number  of  years  —  like  the  breath  of  experi- 
ence, or  the  ancient  freshness  of  a  new  day.  It  was 
born  of  the  mountains  and  nourished  in  the  solitude 
of  the  plains. 

How  different  the  girls  of  fifteen  or  sixteen  such 
as  he  had  known  in  the  city  or  in  sophisticated  vil- 
lages in  the  East!  Lahoma  had  not  been  so  en- 


i4o  LAHOMA 

grossed  by  trivial  activities  of  exacting  days  that 
she  had  lacked  time  for  thought.  Her  housekeep- 
ing cares  were  few  and  devoid  of  routine,  leaving 
most  of  the  hours  of  each  day  for  reading,  for  day- 
dreaming, for  absorbed  meditation.  Somehow  the 
dreams  seemed  to  linger  in  her  voice,  to  hover  upon 
her  brow,  to  form  a  part  of  her;  and  the  longings  of 
those  dreams  were  half-veiled  in  her  eyes,  looking 
out  shyly  as  if  afraid  of  wounding  her  guardians  by 
full  revelation.  She  wanted  to  meet  life,  to  take  a 
place  in  the  world  —  but  what  would  then  become 
of  Willock  and  Bill? 

"  Bill  used  to  live  seven  miles  away  at  the  moun- 
tain with  the  precipice,"  she  went  on,  after  she  had 
told  about  the  wonderful  window.  "  But  it  was 
too  far  off.  When  he  got  to  know  me,  it  tired  him, 
walking  this  far  twice  a  day,  morning  and  night, — 
didn't  it,  Bill !  So  at  last  Brick  and  Bill  decided  to 
cut  some  cedars  from  the  mountain  and  make  me 
a  cabin, —  they  took  the  dugout  to  sleep  in.  There 
are  two  rooms  in  the  cabin,  one,  the  kitchen  where 
we  eat  —  and  the  other,  my  parlor  where  I  sleep. 
Some  time  you  shall  visit  me  in  the  cabin,  if 
Brick  and  Bill  are  willing.  They  made  it  for 
me,  so  I  couldn't  ask  anybody  in,  unless  they  said 
so." 


THE  HALF-OPENED  BUD  141 

"  We  aren't  far  enough  along,"  observed  Bill,  "  to 
be  shut  up  together  under  a  roof." 

"  I'd  like  to  have  you  visit  my  parlor,"  Lahoma 
said  somewhat  wistfully.  "  I'd  like  to  show  you 
all  my  books  —  they  were  Bill's  when  we  first  met 
him,  but  since  then  he's  given  me  everything  he's 
got,  haven't  you,  old  Bill ! "  Lahoma  leaned  over 
and  patted  the  unyielding  shoulder. 

Bill  stared  moodily  at  the  top  of  the  mountain  as 
if  in  a  gloomy  trance,  but  Wilfred  fancied  he  moved 
that  honored  shoulder  a  trifle  nearer  the  girl. 

She  resumed,  her  face  glowing  with  sudden  rap- 
ture: "There  are  six  books  —  half  a  dozen! 
Maybe  you've  heard  of  some  of  them.  Bill's  read 
'em  over  lots  of  times.  He  begins  with  the  first  on 
the  shelf  and  when  he's  through  the  row,  he  just 
takes  'em  up,  all  over  again.  I  like  to  read  parts 
of  them  —  the  interesting  parts.  This  is  the  way 
they  stand  on  the  shelf :  The  Children  of  the  Abbey 
—that's  Bill's  favorite;  The  Scottish  Chiefs,  David 
CopperMd,  The  Talisman,  The  Prairie,  The  Last 
of  the  Mohicans." 

"  I  like  The  Children  of  the  rAbbey  best,  too," 
observed  Brick  Willock  thoughtfully.  "Lahoma, 
she's  read  'em  all  to  me;  that's  the  way  we  get 
through  the  winter  months.  They's  something 


142  LAHOMA 

softening  and  enriching  about  that  there  Children  of 
the  Abbey;  and  Scottish  Chiefs  has  got  some  mighty 
high  work  in  it,  too.  I  tells  Lahoma  that  I  guess 
them  two  books  is  just  about  as  near  the  real  thing 
out  in  the  big  world  as  you  can  get.  David  Copper- 
field  is  sort  of  slow;  I've  went  with  people  that 
knowed  a  powerful  sight  more  than  them  char- 
acters in  David.  I  used  to  drift  about  with  a  bunch 
of  fellows  that  Uriah  Keep  couldn't  have  stood 
up  against  for  five  minutes.  The  Talisman  is 
noble  doings,  too,  but  not  up-to-date.  As  for 
The  Prairie  and  The  Last  of  the  Mohicans,  them 
is  dissatisfying  books, —  they  make  you  think, 
being  as  you  lives  in  just  such  quarters,  interesting 
things  might  happen  most  any  minute  —  and  they 
never  does." 

"  Why,  Brick !  "  Lahoma  reproached  him.  "  This 
has  happened — "  she  nodded  at  Wilfred  Compton. 
"Don't  you  call  that  interesting?" 

"  That's  the  way  7  discusses  them  books,"  re- 
turned Willock  with  manifest  satisfaction.  "  I 
wasn't  never  no  man  to  be  overawed  by  no  book, 
which,  however  high  and  by  whoever  wrote,  ain't 
no  more  like  life  than  a  shadow  in  a  pool.  Try  to 
grab  that  shadow,  and  where  is  it  ?  Just  to  go  out 
after  game  and  climb  the  mountains  all  day  and 


THE  HALF-OPENED  BUD  143 

come  home  of  an  evening  to  sit  down  to  a  plate  of 
bacon  and  eggs,  and  another  of  the  same,  with  coffee 
smoking  on  the  little  stove,  and  Lahoma  urging  on 
the  feast  —  that's  more  of  real  living  than  you'd 
get  out  of  a  big  library.  Ain't  it,  Bill?  " 

"  Now  we  want  to  talk,  Brick,"  interposed  La- 
homa —  "  don't  we,  Wilfred?  " 

"  So  your  cabin  was  built,"  Wilfred  prompted 
her,  "  and  the  men  took  the  dugout." 

"  Yes  —  and  then,  oh !  the  most  wonderful  thing 
happened :  a  family  settled  in  the  arm  of  the  moun- 
tain at  the  west  end  —  a  family  that  had  a  woman 
and  a  baby  in  it  —  a  sure-enough  woman  with 
a  sweet  face  and  of  a  high  grade  though  worked 
down  pretty  level  what  from  hardships  —  and  a 
baby  that  laughed,  just  laughed  whenever  he  saw  me 
coming  in  the  dugout  —  and  I  was  over  there  every 
day.  And  that's  how  I  got  to  be  like  a  woman,  and 
know  how  to  dress,  and  how  to  meet  strangers  with- 
out being  scared,  and  preside  at  table,  and  use 
language  like  this.  Other  settlers  began  coming 
into  Greer,  but  they  were  far  away,  and  Brick  and 
Bill  don't  like  folks,  so  they  stayed  shut  up  pretty 
close.  But  for  three  years  I  had  the  mother  and 
her  baby  to  show  me  how  to  be  a  woman.  Then 
came  the  soldiers.  Brick  thinks  a  big  cattle-king 


144  LAHOMA 

stood  in  with  Congress,  and  he  got  the  soldiers  sent 
here  to  drive  out  all  the  settlers  because  they  were 
beginning  to  farm  the  land  instead  of  letting  it  grow 
wild  for  the  cattle.  Anyway,  all  the  settlers  were 
driven  out  of  the  country  —  and  it's  been  four  years 
since  I  lost  my  only  friends  in  the  world  —  except 
Brick  and  Bill.  What  makes  me  and  Brick  and  Bill 
mad  is,  that  the  soldiers  didn't  have  any  right  to 
drive  out  the  settlers,  because  Texas  claims  this 
country,  and  so  does  the  United  States,  but  it's  never 
been  settled." 

"  But  they  didn't  drive  you  out,"  Wilfred  re- 
marked inquiringly. 

"  You  see,"  Brick  explained  simply,  "  we  didn't 
want  to  go." 

"  It  nearly  broke  Mrs.  Featherby's  heart  to  have 
to  leave,"  Lahoma  added,  "  for  they'd  got  a  good 
stand  of  wheat  and  I  think  she  liked  me  'most  as 
well  as  I  liked  her.  But  Mr.  Featherby  came  from 
Ohio,  and  he  had  respect  to  the  government,  so  when 
the  soldiers  said  '  Go,'  he  pulled  up  stakes." 

"  We  ain't  got  no  respect  to  nothing,"  Brick  ex- 
plained, "that  stands  in  the  way  of  doing  what 
we're  a  mind  to.  The  soldiers  come  to  force  us  out, 
but  they  changed  their  minds.  I  reckon  they  knew 
they  hadn't  no  morality  on  their  side.  Sure  thing, 


THE  HALF-OPENED  BUD  145 

they  knowed  they  had  but  very  little  safety,  whilst 
occupying  their  position.  None  was  left  but  us  in 
this  country  till  you  cattlemen  come  monopolizing 
Heaven  and  earth.  Knowing  we  got  just  as  much 
right  to  this  cove  as  Uncle  Sam  himself,  we  expect 
to  stay  here  at  anchor  till  Lahoma  steams  out  into 
the  big  world  with  sails  spread.  She  expects  to  tug 
us  along  behind  her  —  but  I  don't  know,  I'm  afraid 
we'd  draw  heavy.  Until  that  time  comes,  however, 
we  'lows  to  lay  to,  in  this  harbor.  We  feels  shel- 
tered. Nothing  ain't  more  sheltering  than  knowing 
you  have  a  moral  right  and  a  dependable  gun." 

"  So  that's  about  all,"  Lahoma  went  on.  "  These 
past  four  years,  we've  just  been  to  ourselves,  with  a 
long  journey  once  a  year  to  the  settlements ;  and  all 
the  time  I  had  those  sweet  thoughts  to  dream  over, 
about  the  little  family  that  used  to  live  in  the  west 
mountain.  And  I've  tried  to  do  like  Mrs.  Feath- 
erby  used  to  do,  and  be  like  she  was,  and  if  I  can 
make  as  fine  a  woman  I  needn't  ask  any  more. 
She'd  been  to  Europe,  too,  and  she'd  taught  school 
in  New  England.  Bill  Atkins  is  higher  up  than 
Brick  —  Bill  used  to  know  Kit  Carson  and  all  those 
famous  pioneers,  and  he's  been  most  everywhere  — 
except  in  settled  places.  When  a  boy  he  saw  Sam 
Houston  and  ate  with  him,  and  he  has  heard  David 


146  LAHOMA 

Crockett  with  his  own  ears  —  has  heard  him  say 
'  Be  sure  you're  right,  then  go  ahead/  that's  how  far 
Bill  has  been.  But  it  sort  of  hurt  Brick's  neck,  and 
even  Bill's,  to  look  up  high  enough  to  see  where 
Mrs.  Featherby  had  risen.  She  was  like  you  — 
right  out  of  the  big  world.  She  came  out  here  be- 
cause the  family  was  awful  poor.  Is  that  why  you 
left  the  big  world?" 

Wilfred  shook  his  head.  "  I'm  poor  enough," 
he  said,  "  but  it  wasn't  that.  It  was  a  girl." 

Brick  Willock  explained,  "  He's  got  a  sweetheart; 
he's  been  carrying  her  letters  for  about  two  years. 
He's  done  spoke  for,  Lahoma,  staked  out,  as  a  fel- 
low might  say,  and  squatted  on." 

Lahoma  looked  at  him  in  breathless  interest.  "  A 
girl  out  in  the  big  \vorld?  Completely  civilized,  I 
reckon !  Was  she  as  old  as  I  am  ?  " 

"  Why,  honey !  "  Brick  exclaimed  uneasily,  "  you 
ain't  got  no  age  at  all,  to  speak  of!  What  are  you 
but  a  mere  child  ?  This  young  man  is  talking  about 
them  as  has  got  up  to  be  old  enough  to  think  of 
sweethearting  —  something  respectable  in  years/' 

"  And  how  old  does  a  sweetheart  have  to  be  ?  " 
demanded  Lahoma  with  some  displeasure.  "  I  feel 
old  enough  for  anything,  and  Wilfred  doesn't  look 
any  older  than  the  knight  standing  guard  in  The 


THE  HALF-OPENED  BUD  147 

Talisman.  Besides,  look  at  David  Copperfield  and 
Little  Em'ly." 

"  That  was  child's  work,"  retorted  Brick. 

"I  was  afraid  of  this,"  growled  Bill  Atkins 
restlessly. 

Wilfred  laughed  out.  "  Don't  worry.  My  east- 
ern girl  is  at  least  nineteen  years  old,  and  so  thor- 
oughly civilized  that  she  thinks  this  part  of  the  world 
is  still  overrun  with  Indians  and  buffaloes.  She 
wouldn't  live  out  here  for  a  fortune,  and  she 
wouldn't  marry  a  man  back  East  without  one — • 
that's  why  I'm  here.  I  didn't  have  the  fortune." 

"  Does  she  love  you,  Wilfred?  "  Her  voice  was 
so  soft,  her  eyes  were  so  big,  that  Bill  uttered  a 
smothered  groan,  and  even  Brick  sat  up. 

"  She  did  the  last  time  I  saw  her  —  can't  say  how 
she  feels  now;  that's  been  about  two  years  ago." 
He  spoke  lightly;  but  gazing  into  the  wonderful 
depths  of  Lahorna's  eyes,  he  felt  a  queer  sensation 
like  a  lost  heart-beat. 

"  Did  she  send  you  here  as  a  kind  of  test?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  she  told  me  good-by  and  we  parted  for- 
ever. Both  of  us  were  poor, —  you  can't  live  in  the 
city  if  you're  poor;  you  can  be  poor  there,  but  not 
live.  By  this  time  she's  found  some  one  with 
property,  I  dare  say  —  she's  tremendously  handsome 


i48  LAHOMA 

and  accomplished,  and  has  a  very  distinguished- 
looking  mother  and  they  have  friends  in  society  — 
she'll  make  it  all  right,  no  doubt."  His  voice  was 
matter-of-fact  even  to  indifference;  but  for  all  that, 
he  seemed  to  be  deeply  inhaling  Lahoma's  fresh- 
ness of  morning-rose  sparkling  with  dew. 

"  Does  it  pierce  your  heart  to  think  of  her  marry- 
ing somebody  else?"  Her  voice  was  sweet  with 
the  dream-passion  of  a  young  girl. 

"  When  I  left  home,  I  flung  myself  into  the  life 
of  a  cow-puncher  and  did  all  I  could  to  keep  from 
thinking.  So  my  heart's  rather  callous  by  this  time. 
I  don't  seem  to  mind  like  I  thought  I  would  if  I 
should  sit  down  to  think  about  it.  That's  what  I've 
avoided  like  the  plague  —  sitting  down  to  think 
about  it.  But  I  believe  I  could  sit  down  and  think 
about  it  now,  pretty  calmly." 

"  Then  that's  what  I'd  do,"  Lahoma  cried.  "  I'd 
just  face  it.  She  isn't  worthy  of  you  if  she'd 
rather  have  a  fortune  than  the  man  she  loves.  I'd 
just  sit  down  and  face  it." 

"  I  will!  "  He  had  never  before  thought  it  could 
be  easy.  It  seemed  very  easy,  now. 

"  Maybe  I  could  help  you,"  Lahoma  suggested 
earnestly.  "When  Mrs.  Featherby  lived  near,  I 
asked  her  all  about  such  cases  and  got  her  advice  and 


THE  HALF-OPENED  BUD  149 

experience.  Change  of  scene  and  time  are  the 
greatest  remedies.  You've  had  both.  Then  you 
must  tell  yourself  that  she  isn't  worthy.  And  then 
you'll  remind  yourself  that  there  are  other  girls  in 
the  world.  Then  you  keep  your  mind  occupied, — 
that  is  a  great  thing.  If  you  come  to  the  cove  to 
visit  us,  we  will  try  to  occupy  your  mind  —  won't 
we  Brick?  — and  Bill?" 

Bill  looked  at  Wilfred  glumly.  "  It's  too  occu- 
pied now,  I'm  afraid." 

"  Bill,  this  is  a-growing  on  you,"  Brick  expostu- 
lated. "I  like  the  young  chap  first  rate.  He's 
open  and  free.  Bill,  you  are  hampering,  at  times. 
I  would  go  to  my  dugout  if  I  was  you,  and  cool  my 
head." 

"Your  head'll  be  hot  enough,"  growled  Bill, 
"  when  this  has  gone  too  far." 

Lahoma  opened  her  eyes  wide.  "  What  do  you 
mean?"  she  demanded,  sincerely  perplexed. 

"Bill,"  cried  Brick  warningly,  "you're  a-going 
to  start  up  a  fire  where  they  ain't  even  been  no  kin- 
dling laid." 

Wilfred  rose  hastily.  "I  should  like  dearly  to 
come,  and  come  often,"  he  exclaimed,  "but  I 
couldn't  force  myself  where  I'm  not  wanted." 

"  In  that  case,"  remarked  Bill  inflexibly,  "  you're 


1 50  LAHOMA 

seeing  me  for  the  last  time,  and  may  look  your 
fill!" 

Wilfred  smiled  at  him  tolerantly  and  turned  to 
Willock.  "  I  ought  to  go  to  my  work,  Brick.  I 
won't  try  to  explain  what  this  hour  has  meant  to 
me  for  I  believe  you  understand.  I'm  like  a  man 
crossing  the  desert  who  finds  a  spring  and  gets 
enough  water  to  last  him  till  the  next  oasis." 

He  held  out  his  hand  to  Lahoma  who  had  risen 
swiftly  at  these  signs  of  departure.  "  God  bless 
you,  little  girl,"  he  said  cheerily.  "  A  man's  for- 
tunate who  finds  such  oases  along  his  desert-trail !  " 

It  was  not  Bill's  gruffness,  but  Lahoma's  charm 
that  warned  him  to  flee  lest  he  break  his  promise 
to  her  guardians. 

"  But  you  can't  go,  yet,"  cried  Lahoma,  not  tak- 
ing his  hand,  "  there  are  a  thousand  things  I  want 
to  do  with  you  that  I've  never  had  a  chance  to  do 
with  anybody  else  —  strolling,  for  instance.  Come 
and  stroll  —  I'll  show  you  about  the  cove.  Brick 
and  Bill  don't  know  anything  about  strolling  as 
they  do  in  pictures.  Hold  out  your  arm  with  a 
crook  in  it  and  I'll  slip  my  hand  just  inside  where 
you'll  hold  it  soft  and  warm  like  a  bird  in  its  nest. 
.  .  .  Isn't  his  noble?  And  I  holds  back  —  ex- 
cuse me  —  I  hold  back  my  skirts  with  my  other 


THE  HALF-OPENED  BUD  151 

hand,  and  this  is  the  way  we  stroll,  like  an  en- 
graving out  of  the  history  of  Louis  the  Fourteenth's 
court.  Do,  oh,  do!  "  Her  bright  eyes  glowed  into 
his  like  beckoning  stars. 

"  We  stroll,"  he  gravely  announced,  responding 
to  the  pressure  of  her  ringers,  but  at  the  same  time 
feeling  somewhat  guilty  as  Bill  rolled  his  eyes  fear- 
fully at  Brick. 

When  they  were  a  few  yards  from  the  trees  La- 
homa  whispered,  "  Make  for  the  other  side  of 
Turtle  Hill.  I  want  to  feel  grown  up  when  I  do 
my  strolling,  but  I'm  nothing  but  a  little  barefooted 
kid  when  Brick  and  Bill  are  looking  at  me !  " 

Hidden  by  the  shoulder  of  the  granite  hill  island 
she  stopped,  withdrew  her  hand,  and  stood  very 
straight  as  she  said,  with  breathless  eagerness,  "  An- 
swer me  quick!  Wilfred:  ain't  I  old  enough  to  be 
a  sweetheart  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Lahoma,"  he  protested  warmly,  "  please 
don't  think  of  it.  Don't  be  anybody's  until  —  un- 
til I  say  the  word.  You  couldn't  understand  such 
matters,  dear,  you  wouldn't  know  the  —  the  proper 
time.  I'll  tell  you  when  the  time  comes." 

She  looked  at  him  keenly.  "  Am  I  to  wait  for 
a  time,  or  for  a  person?  I  wish  you'd  never  met 
that  girl  back  East;  I  think  you'd  have  filled  the 


I52  LAHOMA 

bill  for  me,  because,  having  always  lived  here  in 
the  mountains,  I've  not  learned  to  be  particular. 
Not  but  what  I've  seen  lots  of  trappers  and  squat- 
ters in  my  day,  but  I  never  wanted  to  stroll  with 
them.  I  don't  see  why  that  eastern  girl  ever  turned 
you  loose  from  her  trap.  I  think  a  man's  a  very 
wonderful  thing;  especially  a  young  man  —  don't 
you,  Wilfred?" 

"  Not  half  so  wonderful  as  you,  Lahoma."  His 
voice  vibrated  with  sudden  intensity.  "  There's 
your  wonderful  hair,  like  light  shining  through  a 
brown  veil  .  .  .  and  your  eyes  where  your  soul  keeps 
her  lights  flashing  when  all  the  rest  of  you  is  in 
twilight  .  .  .  and  your  hands  and  feet,  four  faith- 
ful little  guides  to  the  wonderful  treasures  that  be- 
long only  to  maidenhood  .  .  .  and  your  mouth, 
changing  with  your  thoughts  —  an  adorable  little 
thermometer,  showing  how  high  the  smiles  have 
risen  in  your  heart;  a' mouth  so  pure  and  sweet — " 

"Hey!"  shouted  Bill  Atkins,  as  he  and  Brick 
came  around  the  angle  of  the  hill.  "  Hi,  there ! 
You  may  call  that  strolling,  but  if  so,  it's  because 
you  don't  know  its  true  name,  if  you  ask  me! " 

Wilfred  came  to  himself  with  a  sharp  indrawing 
of  his  breath.  "Yes,"  he  stammered,  somewhat 
dizzily,  "  yes,  I  —  I  must  be  going,  now." 


THE  HALF-OPENED  BUD  153! 

She  held  his  hand  beseechingly.  "  But  you'll 
come  again,  won't  you?  When  I  hold  your  hand, 
it's  like  grabbing  at  a  bit  of  the  big  world." 

"  No,  Lahoma,  I'm  not  coming  again."  His  look 
was  long  and  steady,  showing  sudden  purpose  which 
concealed  regret  beneath  a  frank  smile  of  liking. 

She  still  held  his  hand,  her  brown  eyes  large  with 
entreaty.  '*  You  will  come  again,  Wilfred !  You 
must  come  again!  Don't  mind  Bill.  I'll  have  a 
talk  with  him  after  you're  gone.  I'll  send  him  over 
to  the  ranch  after  you.  Just  say  you'll  come  again 
if  I  send  for  you." 

"Of  course  he'll  come,  honey,"  said  Brick,  melted 
by  the  tears  that  sounded  in  her  voice.  "  He  won't 
get  huffy  over  a  foolish  old  codger  like  Bill  Atkins. 
Of  course  he'll  come  again  and  tell  you  about  street- 
cars and  lamp-posts.  Let  him  go  to  his  work  now, 
he's  been  up  all  night,  just  to  get  a  word  with  you. 
Let  him  go  —  he'll  come  back  to-morrow,  I  know." 

Wilfred  turned  to  Brick  and  looked  into  his  eyes 
as  he  slowly  released  Lahoma's  hand. 

"  Oh !  "  said  Brick,  considerably  disconcerted. 
"  No,  I  reckon  he  won't  come  back,  honey  —  yes,  I 
guess  he'll  be  busy  the  rest  of  the  summer.  Well, 
son,  put  'er  there  —  shake !  I  like  you  fine,  just 
fine,  and  as  you  can't  come  here  to  see  us  no  more, 


i54  LAHOMA 

being  so  busy  and  —  and  otherwise  elsewhere  bound 
—  I'm  kinder  sorry  to  see  you  go." 

"  Partings,"  said  Bill,  somewhat  mollified,  "  are 
painful  but  necessary,  else  there  wouldn't  be  any 
occasion  for  dentists'  chairs." 

"  That's  so,"  Brick  agreed.  "You  called  Lahoma 
an  oasis.  And  what  is  an  oasis  ?  Something  you 
come  up  to,  and  go  away  from,  and  that's  the  end 
of  the  story.  You  don't  settle  down  and  live  at  a 
spring  just  because  it  give  you  a  drink  when  you 
was  thirsty.  A  man  goes  on  his  way  rejoicing, 
and  Wilfred  according." 

Lahoma  walked  up  to  Wilfred  with  steady  eyes. 
"  Are  you  coming  back  to  see  me  ? "  she  asked 
gravely. 

"No,  Lahoma.  At  least  not  for  a  long,  long 
time.  I  don't  believe  it's  good  for  me  to  forget 
the  life  I've  chosen,  even  for  a  happy  hour.  When 
I  left  the  city,  it  was  to  drop  out  of  the  world  — 
nobody  knows  what  became  of  me,  not  even  my 
brother.  You've  brought  everything  back,  and  that 
isn't  good  for  my  peace  of  mind  and  so  — * 
good-by ! " 

Tall  and  straight  he  stood,  like  a  soldier  whose 
duty  it  is  to  face  defeat;  and  standing  thus,  he 


THE  HALF-OPENED  BUD  155 

fastened  his  eyes  upon  her  face  as  if  to  stamp  those 
features  in  a  last  long  look  upon  his  heart. 

"  Good-by,"  said  Lahoma ;  this  time  she  did  not 
hold  out  her  hand.  Her  face  was  composed,  her 
voice  quiet.  If  in  her  eyes  there  was  the  look  of 
one  who  has  been  rebuffed ;  her  pride  was  too  great 
to  permit  a  show  of  pain. 

Wilfred  hesitated.  But  what  was  to  be  done? 
Solitude  and  homesickness  had  perhaps  distorted  his 
vision;  at  any  rate  he  had  succumbed  to  the  folly 
against  which  he  had  been  warned.  He  could  not 
accept  Lahoma  as  a  mere  child ;  and  though,  during 
the  scene,  he  had  repeatedly  reminded  himself  that 
she  was  only  fifteen,  her  face,  her  voice,  her  form, 
her  manner  of  thought,  refused  the  limits  of  child- 
hood. Therefore  he  went  away,  outwardly  well- 
content  with  his  morning,  but  inwardly  full  of  wrath 
that  his  heart  had  refused  the  guidance  of  his  mind. 

And  she  had  been  so  simple,  so  eager  to  meet  him 
on  an  equal  plane,  even  clinging  to  him  as  to  the 
only  hope  in  her  narrow  world  that  might  draw  her 
out  into  deeper  currents  of  knowledge. 

"  I've  always  been  a  fool,"  he  muttered  savagely, 
as  he  sought  his  horse.  "  I  was  a  fool  about  An- 
nabel—  and  now  I'm  too  big  a  fool  to  enjoy  what 


156  LAHOMA 

fortune  has  fairly  flung  in  my  path."  Presently 
he  began  to  laugh  —  it  was  all  so  ridiculous,  beating 
a  retreat  because  he  could  not  regard  a  fifteen-year- 
old  girl  as  a  little  child!  He  drew  several  time- 
worn  letters  from  his  pocket  and  tore  them  into 
small  bits  that  fluttered  away  like  snowflakes  on 
the  wind.  He  had  no  longer  a  sentimental  interest 
in  them,  at  all  events. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  BIG  WORLD 

HE  did  not  come  again.  Lahoma  used  to  go  to 
the  hill-island,  which  she  called  Turtle  Hill 
because  the  big  flattened  rocks  looked  like  turtles  that 
had  crawled  up  out  of  the  cove  to  sun  themselves; 
among  these  turtles  she  would  lie,  watching  the  open 
mouth  of  the  mountain  horseshoe  in  the  vain  hope 
that  Wilfred  would  appear  from  around  the  granite 
wall.  Occasionally  she  descended  to  the  plain  and 
scanned  the  level  world,  but  it  was  pleasanter  to 
watch  from  the  cove  because  one  never  knew,  while 
in  that  retreat,  who  might  be  coming  along  the 
range.  On  the  plain,  there  were  no  illusions. 

Lahoma  courted  illusions.  And  when  she  knew 
that  Wilfred  Compton  had  severed  connections  with 
Old  Man  Walker  she  merely  exchanged  one  hope, 
one  dream,  for  another.  The  opportunity  to  learn 
about  the  big  world  was  withdrawn ;  but  the  antici- 
pation of  one  day  meeting  Wilfred  again  was  as 
strong  as  ever.  She  made  no  secret  of  this  expec- 
tation. 


158  LAHOMA 

Bill  Atkins  sought  to  dismiss  it  effectually.  "  You 
don't  know  about  the  big  world,  Lahoma,"  he  de- 
clared, "  if  you  think  people  meet  up  with  each  other 
after  they've  once  lost  touch.  If  all  this  part  of 
America  was  blotted  out  of  existence,  people  in  the 
East  wouldn't  miss  any  ink  out  of  the  ink-bottle." 

Lahoma  tossed  her  head.  "  Maybe  the  world  is 
big,"  she  conceded.  "But  if  Wilfred  isn't  big 
enough  to  make  himself  seen  in  it  when  I  go  a-look- 
ing,  I  don't  care  whether  I  meet  him  again  or  not. 
When  I'm  in  the  big  world,  I  expect  to  deal  only 
with  big  people." 

"I  saw  no  bigness  about  him/'  Bill  cried 
slightingly. 

"If  he  isn't  big  enough  to  make  himself  seen," 
Lahoma  serenely  returned,  "  I  won't  never  — " 

"  You  won't  ever  — "  Bill  corrected. 

"I  won't  ever  have  to  wear  specs  for  strained 
eyes,"  Lahoma  concluded,  smiling  at  Bill  as  if  she 
knew  why  he  was  as  he  was,  and  willingly  took  him 
so  because  he  couldn't  help  himself. 

It  was  Brick  who  heard  about  Wilfred's  adven- 
tures on  leaving  the  Red  River  ranch,  and  as  all 
three  sat  outside  the  cabin  in  the  dusk  of  evening, 
he  retailed  them  as  gathered  from  a  recent  trip  to 
the  corral.  That  was  a  strange  story  unfolded  to 


THE  BIG  WORLD  159 

Lahoma's  ears,  a  story  rich  with  the  romance  of  the 
great  West,  wild  in  its  primitive  strivings  and  thrill- 
ing in  its  realizations  of  countless  hopes.  The  nar- 
rative lost  nothing  in  the  telling,  for  Brick  Willock 
understood  the  people  and  the  instincts  that  moved 
them,  and  though  Wilfred  Compton  might  differ 
from  all  in  his  motives  and  plans,  he  shared  with  all 
the  same  hardships,  the  same  spur  to  ambition. 

It  was  now  ten  years  since  the  discovery  had  been 
made  that  in  the  western  part  of  Indian  Territory 
were  fourteen  million  acres  that  had  never  been  as- 
signed to  the  red  man  and  which,  therefore,  were 
public  land,  subject  to  homestead  settlement.  As 
long  as  the  western  immigrants  could  choose  among 
the  rich  prairie-lands  of  Iowa,  Nebraska,  Minne- 
sota, Dakota  and  Kansas  —  and  the  choice  was  open 
to  all,  following  the  agreement  of  the  plains  tribes 
to  retire  to  reservations, —  it  was  not  strange  that 
the  unassigned  lands  of  Indian  Territory  should  have 
escaped  notice,  surrounded  as  they  were  by  the 
Cherokee  Strip,  the  Osage  and  Creek  countries,  the 
Chickasaw  Nation,  the  Wichita,  Cado,  Cheyenne 
and  Arapaho  tribes. 

But  other  public  lands  were  now  scarce,  or  less 
inviting,  and  as  far  back  as  1879,  when  Lahoma  was 
five  years  old,  colonies  had  formed  in  Kansas  City, 


i6o  LAHOMA 

in  Topeka  and  in  Texas,  to  move  upon  the  Okla- 
homa country.  The  United  States  troops  had  dis- 
persed the  "  boomers,"  but  in  the  following  year  the 
indefatigable  Payne  succeeded  in  leading  a  colony 
into  the  very  heart  of  the  coveted  land.  It  was  in 
order  to  escape  arrest  —  for  again  the  United  States 
cavalry  had  descended  on  settlers  —  that  several 
wagons,  among  them  that  of  Gledware's,  had  driven 
hastily  toward  the  Panhandle,  to  come  to  grief  at 
the  hands  of  ruffians  from  No-Man's  Land. 

As  Brick  Willock  told  of  Payne's  other  attempts 
to  colonize  the  Oklahoma  country,  of  his  arrests,  of 
his  attempts  to  bring  his  various  cases  to  the  trial, 
she  felt  that  Willock  was,  in  a  way,  dealing  with 
her  personal  history,  for  had  she  not  been  named 
Lahoma  in  honor  of  that  country  which  her  step- 
father had  seen  only  to  loose  ?  Time  and  again  the 
colonists  swarmed  over  the  border,  finding  their  way 
through  Indian  villages  and  along  desolate  trails  to 
the  land  that  belonged  to  the  public,  but  was  enjoyed 
I  only  by  the  great  cattlemen;  as  many  times,  they 
were  driven  from  their  newly-claimed  homes  by 
federal  troops,  not  without  severity,  and  their  leaders 
were  imprisoned. 

But,  at  last,  April  the  twenty-second,  1889,  had 
been  appointed  as  the  day  on  which  the  Oklahoma 


THE  BIG  WORLD  161 

country  was  to  be  opened  up  to  settlement,  and  it 
was  to  meet  this  event  that  Wilfred  Compton  had 
left  Greer  County.  He  was  a  unit  in  that  immense 
throng  that  waited  impatiently  for  the  hour  of  noon 
—  a  countless  host,  stretching  along  the  north  on  the 
boundary  of  the  Cherokee  Strip,  on  the  south,  at 
the  edge  of  the  Cherokee  Nation;  on  the  east,  along 
the  Kickapoo  and  Pottawatomie  reservations;  and 
on  the  west,  blackening  the  extremity  of  the  Chey- 
enne and  Arapaho  countries.  He  was  one  of  those 
who,  at  the  discharge  of  the  carbines  of  the  patrol- 
ing  cavalrymen,  joined  in  the  deafening  shout 
raised  by  men  of  all  conditions  and  from  almost 
every  state  in  the  Union  —  a  shout  as  of  triumph 
over  the  fulfilment  of  a  ten-years'  dream.  And, 
leaning  forward  on  his  pony,  he  was  one  of  the 
army  of  conquest  that  burst  upon  the  desert,  on  foot, 
on  horseback,  and  in  vehicles  of  every  description, 
in  the  mad  rush  for  homes  in  a  land  that  had  never 
known  the  incense  of  the  hearth  or  the  civilizing 
touch  of  the  plow. 

At  noon,  a  wilderness,  at  night,  a  land  of  tents, 
and  on  the  morrow,  a  settled  country  of  furrowed 
fields.  "  Pioneer  work  is  awful  quick,  nowadays!  " 
grumbled  Bill  Atkins,  as  Brick  concluded.  "  It 
wasn't  so  in  my  time.  Up  there  in  the  Oklahoma 


1 62  LAHOMA 

country,  fifty  years  have  been  squeezed  into  a  week's 
time  —  it's  like  a  magician  making  a  seed  grow  and 
sprout  and  blossom  right  before  the  audience. 
Lucky  I  came  to  Greer  County,  Texas  —  I  don't 
guess  if II  ever  be  anything  but  sand  and  a  blow." 

"  It's  a  great  story,"  Brick  declared,  with  enthusi- 
asm. "  I  reckon  it's  the  greatest  story  that  America 
can  put  out,  in  the  pioneering  line.  There  they  had 
everything  in  twenty-four  hours  that  used  to  wear 
out  our  ancestors :  Injuns,  unbroken  land,  no  sign  of 
life  for  hundreds  of  miles  —  and  just  a  turn  of  the 
hand  and  cities  is  a-coming  up  out  of  the  ground, 
and  saloons  and  churches  is  rubbing  shoulders, 
and  there's  talk  of  getting  out  newspapers.  What 
do  you  think  of  it,  honey?" 

Lahoma  was  sitting  in  grave  silence,  her  hands 
clasped  in  her  lap.  She  turned  slowly  and  looked 
at  Willock.  "  Brick,  I'm  disappointed." 

"  Which  ?  "  asked  Willock,  somewhat  taken  aback. 
"Where?" 

"In  him  —  in  Wilfred." 

"As  how  so?" 

"  Going  into  that  wilderness-life,  instead  of  tak- 
ing his  place  in  the  world !  " 

"Well,  honey,  if  he  hadn't  come  to  this  wilder- 
ness, you'd  never  of  saw  him." 


THE  BIG  WORLD  163 

"  Yes  —  but  he  wasn't  settled,  and  now  he's 
settled  in  it.  Is  that  the  way  to  be  a  man  ?  There's 
all  those  other  people  to  do  the  thing  he's  doing. 
Then  what's  the  use  of  him?" 

"  Ain't  we  in  the  same  box  ?  " 

"Yes,  and  that's  why  I  mean  to  get  out  of  it, 
some  day.  But  it's  different  with  him.  He's  chosen 
his  box,  and  gone  in,  and  shut  the  lid  on  himself! 
I'm  disappointed  in  him.  I've  been  thinking  him 
a  real  man.  I  guess  I'm  still  to  see  what  I'm  look- 
ing for,"  added  Lahoma,  shaking  her  head. 

"  We'll  let  it  go  at  that,"  muttered  Bill  who  was 
anxious  to  turn  Lahoma's  mind  from  thoughts  of 
Wilfred.  "  We'll  just  go  ahead  and  look  for  new 
prospects." 

"  Not  till  I  make  a  remark,"  said  Willock,  laying 
aside  his  pipe.  "  Honey,  do  you  know  what  I 
mean  by  a  vision  ?  It  calls  for  a  big  vision  to  take 
in  a  big  person,  and  you  ain't  got  it.  Maybe  it 
wasn't  meant  for  women,  or  at  least  a  girl  of  fifteen 
to  see  further  than  her  own  foot-tracks,  so  no  blame 
laid  and  nobody  judged,  according.  If  you  don't 
see  nothing  in  that  army  of  settlers  going  into  a 
raw  land  and  falling  to  work  to  make  it  bloom  like 
the  rose,  a-setting  out  to  live  in  solitude  for  years 
that  in  due  time  the  world  may  be  richer  by  a  great 


164  LAHOMA 

territory,  why,  you  ain't  got  a  big  vision.  I've  got 
it,  for  I  was  born  in  the  West,  and  I've  lived  all 
my  life,  peaceable  and  calm,  right  out  here  or  here- 
abouts. You've  got  to  breathe  western  air  to  get 
the  big  vision.  You've  got  to  see  towns  rise  out 
of  the  turf  over  night  and  bust  into  cities  before 
the  harvest-fields  is  ripe,  to  know  what  can  be  did 
when  men  is  free,  not  hampered  by  set-and-bound 
rules  as  holds  'em  down  to  the  ways  of  their  fathers. 
Back  East,  folks  is  straining  themselves  to  make 
over,  and  improve,  and  polish  up  what  they  found 
ready-to-hand  —  but  here  out  West,  we  creates.  It 
takes  a  big  vision  to  see  the  bigness  of  the  West,  and 
you  can't  get  no  true  idee  by  squinting  at  the  sub- 
ject." 

Lahoma  did  not  reply,  and  Bill  feared  that  under 
the  conviction  of  her  friend's  eloquence,  she  had  be- 
gun to  idealize  the  efforts  of  Wilfred  Compton. 
He  need  not  have  been  afraid.  To  her  imagina- 
tion, "  big  people  "  were  not  living  in  dugouts,  or 
tents,  far  from  civilization ;  "  big  people  "  were  go- 
ing to  the  opera  every  night,  and  riding  in  splendid 
carriages  along  imposing  boulevards  every  day. 
Brick  and  Bill  had  contrived  to  live  as  well  as  they 
desired  from  profits  on  skins  obtained  in  the  moun- 
tains; and  the  small  tract  of  ground  they  had  culti- 


THE  BIG  WORLD  165 

vated  in  a  desultory  manner  had  done  little  beyond 
supplying  themselves  with  vegetables  and  the  horses 
with  some  extra  feed.  She  had  no  great  opinion 
of  agriculture;  and  though  she  had  taken  part  in 
planting  and  hoeing  with  a  pleasurable  zest,  she  had 
never  entertained  herself  with  the  thought  that  she 
was  engaged  in  a  great  work.  As  to  dugouts,  they 
had  no  place  in  her  dreams  of  the  future.  Since 
Wilfred  had  chosen  to  handicap  himself  with  the 
same  limitations  that  bound  her,  even  the  thought 
of  him  was  to  be  banished  from  her  world,  banished 
absolutely. 

Her  day-dreams  did  not  cease,  but  became  more 
dreamy,  more  unreal,  since  the  hero  of  her  fancies, 
for  whom  she  now  had  no  flesh-and-blood  prototype, 
was  suggested  only  by  her  moods  and  her  books. 
As  the  sun-clear  days  of  maidenhood  melted  im- 
perceptibly into  summer  glow  and  winter  spaces,  the 
memory  of  Wilfred's  face  and  voice  sometimes  sur- 
prised her  at  unexpected  turns  of  solitary  musings. 
But  the  face  grew  less  defined,  the  voice  lost  its 
distinctive  tone,  as  the  years  passed  uninterruptedly 
by. 

"  I  reckon  it  ain't  right/'  said  Brick  Willock  to 
Bill  Atkins  as  they  went  one  morning  to  examine 
their  traps  before  Lahoma  was  astir,  "  to  keep  our 


,j66  LAHOMA 

little  gal  to  ourselves  as  we're  doing.  You're  get- 
ting old,  Bill,  awful  old — " 

"  Well,  damn  it,"  growled  Bill,  "  I  guess  I  don't 
have  to  be  told !  " 

"You  ain't  very  long  for  this  world,  Bill,  not 
in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature.  And  when  I've 
laid  you  to  rest  under  the  rock-pile,  Lahoma  ain't 
going  to  find  the  variety  in  me  that  she  now  has  in 
the  two  of  us.  'Besides  which,  I'm  in  the  fifties 
myself,  and  them  is  halves  of  hundreds." 

"Yes,"  Bill  growled,  "and  give  Lahoma  time, 
she'll  die,  too.  Nothing  but  the  mountain'll  be  left 
to  look  out  on  the  plains.  Lord,  Brick,  who  do  you 
reckon'll  be  living  in.  that  cove,  when  we  three  are 
dead  and  gone  ?  " 

"  Guess  I'll  be  worrying  about  something  else, 
then." 

"  Do  you  reckon,"  pursued  Bill,  in  an  unwonted 
tone  of  mellowness,  "  that  those  who  come  to  live 
in  our  dugout  will  ever  imagine  what  happy  hours 
we've  passed  there,  just  sitting  around  quiet  and 
enjoying  ourselves  and  one  another  ?  " 

"  They  wouldn't  imagine  you  was  enjoying  of 
yourself,  not  if  they  was  feeding  their  eyes  on  you 
every  day.  But  I'm  awful  bothered  about  Lahoma, 
I  tell  you,  it  ain't  right  to  keep  her  shut  up  as  in  a 


THE  BIG  WORLD  167 

cage.  Can't  you  see  she's  pining  for  high  society 
such  as  I  ain't  got  it  in  me  to  supply,  and  you  are 
too  cussed  obstinate  to  display  ?  " 

"  I  guess  that's  so."  Bill  drew  himself  stiffly  up 
by  the  tree  above  —  they  were  ascending  the  wooded 
gully  that  extended  from  base  to  mountain-top. 
"  Well,  what's  the  hurry  ?  She's  only  seventeen 
years  old." 

ff  Yes,  she  was  only  seventeen  years  old,  two 
years  ago;  but  she's  ninteen,  now." 

Bill  Atkins  sank  upon  a  rock  at  the  foot  of  a 
bristling  cedar.  "Nineteen!  Who,  Lahomaf  Then 
where've  I  been  all  the  time?" 

"  You've  been  a-traveling  along  at  a  pretty  fast 
clip  toward  your  last  days,  that's  where  you've 
been.  Just  look  at  yourself!  Ain't  you  always 
careful  in  making  your  steps  as  if  scared  of  break- 
ing something?  And  now,  you're  out  of  breath!" 

"  It  was  knocked  out  by  the  thought  of  her  be- 
ing so  old  —  but  I  guess  you're  right.  Well,  I 
wouldn't  call  her  life  caged-up.  The  settlers  have 
been  moving  in  pretty  steadily,  and  she  has  friends 
amongst  all  the  families  where  there's  women-folks. 
She  has  her  own  pony,  and  is  gone  more  than  suits 
me;  and  although  there's  no  young  man  disposable, 
we  ain't  fretting  about  that,  nor  her  neither." 


168  LAHOMA 

"  I  used  to  think  she  might  be  foolish  about  Wil- 
fred Compton  —  but  Lahoma,  she  ain't  foolish 
about  nothing.  Nevertheless,  Bill,  it  ain't  right. 
Settlers  is  settlers,  and  what  she  yearns  for  is  the 
big  world.  I  would  long  since  of  took  her  out  to 
see  it,  but  dassn't  from  a  liability  to  be  catched  up 
for  divers  deeds  that  was  unlawfully  charged  to 
me  in  times  past.  You  could  have  guided  her  along 
the  city  trails,  but  was  too  cussed  obstinate." 

"  She's  your  cousin/'  retorted  Bill,  "  and  it  wasn't 
for  me  to  act  her  guardian.  Besides,  did  you  want 
to  lose  her?  You  couldn't  take  Lahoma  where 
she'd  be  seen  and  known,  and  expect  to  get  her  back 
again.  Maybe  it  isn't  exactly  fair  to  keep  her 
hoarded  up  —  but  the  times  are  changing  all  that, 
and  sorry  am  I  to  see  it.  Do  you  know,  Brick,  I 
once  thought  you  and  me  and  Lahoma  could  just 
live  here  in  the  cove  till  time  was  no.  more,  reading 
our  books,  and  smoking  our  pipes,  and  taking  peace- 
ful morning  trips  like  this  —  to  see  whether  we'd 
caught  a  coyote  in  our  traps,  or  a  bobcat,  or  a 
skunk." 

:'Yes,  that's  all  right  for  us;  but  Lahoma  ain't 
smoking  no  pipe,  nor  is  her  interest  in  skunks  such 


as  ours." 


Just  so  —  but  see  how  Greer  County  is  getting 


THE  BIG  WORLD  169 

settled  up  —  that's  what's  going  to  save  us,  Brick 
< — civilization  is  coming  to  Lahoma,  she  won't 
have  to  go  out  gunning  after  it." 

"Of  course  I've  thought  of  that.  I  ain't  got 
your  grammar,  but  my  mind  don't  have  to  wait 
to  let  in  an  idea  after  it's  put  its  clothes  on.  Maybe 
they  comes  in  nothing  but  a  nightshirt,  but  I  ain't 
ever  knowed  you  to  think  of  nothing  yet,  that  I 
hadn't  entertained  in  some  fashion.  Of  course,  civ- 
ilization is  a-creeping  up  to  the  mountain,  and  I 
reckon  by  the  time  Lahoma  is  my  age  it'll  be  play- 
ing an  organ  in  church.  But  she's  at  the  age  that 
calls  for  quick  work  —  she's  got  the  rest  of  her  life 
to  settle  down  in.  Most  all  of  a  person's  life  is 
spent  in  settling  and  it's  befitting  to  lay  in  the  foun- 
dation aforetime.  Look  at  that  dear  girl  in  The 
Children  of  the  Abbey,  all  them  love-passages  and 
the  tears  she  sheds  —  she  was  being  a  young  woman ! 
What  would  that  noble  book  of  been  had  that  lovely 
creature  been  shut  up  in  a  cove  till  nineteen  year  of 
age?  Is  Lahoma  going  to  have  a  chance  like  that 
amongst  these  settlers?  Will  she  ever  hear  that 
high  talk,  that  makes  your  flesh  sort  of  creep  with 
pride  in  your  race  when  you  read  it  aloud  ?  " 

"  Do  you  want  Lahoma  to  have  a  lover,  Brick 
Willock?" 


I7o  LAHOMA 

"  Bill,  if  he  is  fit,  I  say  she  ought  to  have  a 
chance." 

"  And  where  are  you  going  to  find  the  man  ?  " 

"  I'm  going  to  help  Lahoma  find  him.  I'm  like 
you,  Bill,  I  hates  that  lover  like  a  snake  this  min- 
ute, though  I  ain't  no  idea  who,  where,  or  what  he 
is,  or  may  be.  I  hates  him  —  but  I  ain't  going  to 
stand  in  Lahoma's  way.  No,  sir,  I  'low  to  meet 
civilization  half-way.  There  it  is  —  look !  " 

Willock  stood  erect  and  pointed  toward  the  plain, 
where  perhaps  twenty  tents  had  been  pitched  within 
the  last  two  weeks.  Bill  gave  an  unwilling  glance, 
shrugged  his  shoulders  disdainfully,  and  resumed 
progress  up  the  difficult  defile. 

Willock  continued:  "Two  weeks  ago,  there 
wasn't  nothing  there  but  naked  sand.  Now  there's 
three  saloons,  a  hardware  store,  a  grocery,  a  bank 
—  all  of  'em  under  canvas  —  and  the  makings  of  a 
regular  town.  Right  out  there  in  the  broiling  sun ! 
Carloads  of  lumber  and  machinery  is  on  its  way, 
and  the  stage-coach  will  be  putting  off  mail  there 
before  long.  That's  how  civilization  is  a-seeking 
out  our  little  gal.  But  I  means  to  meet  it  half- 
way." 

"  Oh,  come  on,  don't  say  anything  more  about 
it  —  when  I  look  at  those  tents  I  can't  breathe 


THE  BIG  WORLD  171 

freely.  What  do  you  gamble  on  —  a  skunk,  or  a 
coyote,  in  the  traps  ?  " 

"  'Tain't  them  tents  that's  seeping  your  breath, 
it's  pure  unalloyed  age.  Yes,  sir,  I  means  to  meet 
civilization  half-way.  I've  already  been  prospect- 
ing. There's  a  party  over  there  in  Tent  City  that's 
come  on  from  Chicago  just  from  the  lust  of  seeing 
pioneer-life  at  first  hand,  people  that  haven't  no 
idee  of  buying  or  settling  —  it's  a  picnic  to  them. 
They're  camping  out,  watching  life  develop — and 
what's  life-and-death  earnestness  to  others  is  just 
amusement  to  them.  That  there's  a  test  of  people 
high-up.  Real  folks  in  the  big  world  don't  do 
nothing,  it  takes-  all  their  time  just  being  folks. 
You  and  me  could  bag  a  dozen  polecats  whilst  a 
fine  lady  was  making  her  finger-nails  ready  for  the 
day.  And  these  Chicago  people  is  that  kind."  , 

"  Do  you  think  they'll  make  friends  with  Lahoma 
just  to  suit  you?  The  kind  of  people  you're  talk- 
ing about  are  more  afraid  of  getting  to  know  strang- 
ers than  they  are  of  being  set  on  by  wildcats." 

"  They'll  make  friends  with  Lahoma,  all  right, 
and  invite  her  home  with  'em.  That's  the  way  I 
'low  to  set  her  out  in  the  big  world.  Lahoma  don't 
know  my  plans  and  neither  do  they,  but  I  was  never 
a  man  to  make  my  plans  knowed  when  I  was  going 


1 72  LAHOMA 

to  hold  up  people.  Of  course  I'm  speaking  in  a 
figger,  but  in  a  figger  I  may  say  I've  held  up  several, 
in  my  day." 

"  They  won't  invite  Lahoma  to  Chicago,  not  if 
they  are  the  right  sort." 

"  They  will  invite  Lahoma  to  Chicago,"  retorted 
Willock  firmly,  "  and  they  are  the  right  sort.  Wait 
and  see ;  and  when  you  have  saw,  render  due  honor 
to  your  Uncle  Brick." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A   SURE-ENOUGH  MAN 

4fc  T)  ARDNER,  I  sure  am  glad  to  see  you  —  put 

JL  'er  there  again !  How  are  you  feeling,  any- 
how? Look  mighty  tough  and  wiry,  I  do  say; 
Here,  Bill !  "  Willock  raised  his  voice  to  a  power- 
ful shout,  "  Bill !  come  and  see  what's  blowed  in 
with  the  tumbleweed  and  tickle-grass.  A  sure- 
enough  man,  that's  what  I  call  him,  and  me  to  fight 
if  any  dispute's  made  to  the  title,  according.7' 

The  tall  bronzed  man  who  was  leading  his  horse 
along  the  road  entering  the  mountain  horseshoe, 
smiled  with  a  touch  of  gravity  in  the  light  of  his 
gray  eyes.  Willock  found  his  chin  more  resolute, 
his  glance  more  assured  and  penetrating,  while  his 
step,  firm  and  alert,  told  of  dauntless  purpose.  He 
was  no  longer  the  wandering  cowboy  content  with 
a  bed  on  the  ground  wherever  chance  might  find 
him  at  night,  but  a  mature  man  who  had  taken  root 
in  the  soil  of  his  own  acres.  Only  twenty-five  or 
six,  his  features  were  still  touched  with  the  last 
lingering  mobility  of  youth ;  but  the  set  of  his  mouth 


174  LAHOMA 

and  the  gleam  of  his  eyes  hinted  at  years  of  battle 
against  storms,  droughts  and  loneliness.  He  was 
already  a  veteran  of  the  prairie,  despite  his  youth. 

"  Everything  looks  very  natural ! "  murmured 
Wilfred  Compton,  gazing  about  on  the  seamed  walls 
of  granite  in  whose  crevices  the  bright  cedars 
mocked  at  winter's  threatening  hand. 

"  Yes,  mountains  is  lots  more  natural  than 
humans.  They  just  sets  there  serene  and  indiffer- 
ent not  caring  whether  you  likes  their  looks  or 
not,  and  they  let  'er  blow  and  let  'er  snow,  it's  all 
one  to  them.  I  reckon  when  we've  been  dead  so 
long  that  nobody  could  raise  a  dispute  as  to  whether 
we'd  ever  lived  or  not,  that  there  same  boulder  what 
they  calls  Rocking  Stone  will  still  be  a-making  up 
its  mind  whether  to  roll  down  into  the  valley  or 
stay  where  it  was  born.  Wilfred,  if  you  knowed 
how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  again,  you'd  be  sort  of 
scared,  I  reckon,  thinking  you'd  fell  amongst  can- 
nibals. Wonder  where  that  aged  trapper  is?" 
He  shouted  more  lustily,  and  a  bristling  white  head 
suddenly  appeared  on  the  summit  of  Turtle  Hill. 

"Great  Scott!"  yelled  Bill  Atkins,  glaring  down 
upon  the  approaching  figure,  "  if  it  ain't  Wilfred 
Compton  again!  Come  on,  come  on,  I  was  never 
as  glad  to  see  anybody  in  all  my  life!  " 


A  SURE-ENOUGH  MAN  175 

It 

The  young  man  looked  at  Willock  somewhat 
dubiously.  "  He's  very  much  altered,  then,  since 
I  met  him  last.  I'm  afraid  he  has  a  gun  hidden 
up  there  among  the  rocks." 

"Oh,  mix,  mix,"  retorted  Willock.  "He's 
a-speaking  fair.  Come  along!" 

As  they  ascended  the  winding  road,  Wilfred 
vividly  recalled  the  day  when,  from  the  same  eleva- 
tion, he  had  watched  Lahoma  buried  in  her  day- 
dreams. A  sudden  turn  brought  the  cove  into  view. 
Lahoma  was  not  to  be  seen,  but  there  was  the  cabin, 
the  dugout  and  the  three  cedar  trees  in  whose 
shade  he  had  made  the  discovery  that  he  could  not 
regard  Lahoma  as  a  little  girl.  It  seemed  that  the 
cabin  door  trembled — >was  Lahoma's  hand  upon 
the  latch?  And  when  she  opened  the  door,  what 
expression  would  flash  upon  that  face  he  remem- 
bered so  well  ?  Would  she  be  as  glad  as  Willock  and 
Bill  Atkins,  when  she  recognized  him?  Even  one 
half  as  glad? 

He  sighed  deeply  —  it  was  not  to  be  expected. 
She  had  known  him  only  an  hour ;  since  then,  many 
settlers  had  invaded  the  country  about  the  Granite 
Mountains,  a  city  had  sprung  up,  not  far  away  — 
other  towns  were  peeping  through  the  sand,  and 
blooming  from  canvas  to  wood  and  brick.  The  air 


176  LAHOMA 

tingled  with  the  electric  currents  of  new,  life  and 
intense  competition. 

"Did  Lahoma  marry?"  he  asked  abruptly  as  all 
three  descended  to  the  lower  level  of  the  cove. 

"  She  never  did,  yet,"  replied  Bill  dryly. 
"Young  man,  I'm  powerful  glad  to  see  you.  It's 
rather  chilly  out  here.  I'll  take  your  horse  and  we'll 
gather  in  the  dugout  and  talk  over  what's  hap- 
pened since  we  last  met.  Brick,  don't  you  begin 
on  anything  interesting  till  I  come." 

"  You  give  me  that  horse,"  retorted  Brick. 
"  You're  too  aged  a  man  to  be  messing  with  horses. 
You'll  get  a  fall  one  of  these  days  that'll  lay  you 
flat.  You'll  never  knit  them  bones  together,  if  you 
do;  you  ain't  vital  enough." 

Bill  clung  grimly  to  the  bridle,  muttering  some- 
thing that  showed  no  lack  of  vitality  in  his  vocabu- 
lary. 

"  He  won't  let  me  take  no  care  of  him,"  com- 
plained Brick,  as  he  conducted  Wilfred  to  the  dug- 
out. 

Wilfred  cast  a  longing  glance  toward  the  cabin, 
and  again  he  thought  Lahoma's  parlor  door  quiv- 
ered. He  even  stopped  in  the  path;  but  Willock 
went  on,  unconscious,  and  he  was  obliged  to  follow. 

"It's  a  strange  thing,"  remarked  Brick,  as  he 


A  SURE-ENOUGH  MAN 

descended  the  hard  dirt  steps,  "  how  Lahoma  has 
acted  on  me.  I  mean,  living  with  her  these  past 
twelve  years,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  world  shut 
out,  except  Bill.  Could  I  of  been  told  before  I 
saved  little  Lahoma  from  the  highwaymen  that  I'd 
ever  worry  over  an  old  coon  like  Bill  Atkins,  as  to 
whether  he  broke  his  neck  or  not,  I'd  'a'  laughed, 
for  I'd  'a'  had  to.  But  it  sure  does  gall  me  to  have 
him  exposing  himself  as  he  does.  /  never  wanted 
Bill  to  come  here,  but  he  just  come,  like  a  stray 
cat.  First  thing  I  knowed,  he  was  a-purring  at  the 
fireside  —  well,  not  exactly  a-purring,  nuther,  but 
sort  of  mewing,  and  looking  ready  to  scratch.  He 
just  took  up  with  us  and  now  it's  like  always  being 
scared  to  close  a  door  for  fear  of  catching  his  tail 
in  the  jamb  —  I'm  talking  in  a  figger.  Come  in, 
pard  —  this  used  to  be  Lahoma's  boudoir  before  we 
built  that  cabin  for  her.  See  the  carpet?  Don't 
tell  me  you're  a-walking  on  it,  and  not  noticing! 
See  that  little  stove?  J  brung  it  clear  across  the 
mountains  from  a  deserted  wagon,  when  I  was 
young.  Two  legs  is  gone  and  it's  squat-bellied,  and 
smokes  if  the  wind  gives  it  a  chance;  but  I  wouldn't 
trade  it  for  a  new  one.  Set  on  this  bench.  I  recol- 
lect as  well  as  if  it  'us  yesterday,  Lahoma  a-setting 
there  with  her  legs  untouching  of  the  floor,  learning 


178  LAHOMA 

*  A '  and  '  B  '  and  asking  thousands  of  questions 
and  getting  herself  civilized.  I  couldn't  do  a  fin- 
ished job,  but  Bill  took  her  by  the  hand  later,  then 
a  Mrs.  Featherby,  what  moved  over  in  the  west 
mountain,  added  stores  from  New  England  and 
travels  in  Europe.  When  the  settlers  come,  she 
gleaned  all  they  knowed,  always  a-rising  and  a-look- 
ing  out  for  new  country.  That's  a  wonderful  girl !  " 
he  added  with  conviction. 

When  Bill  came,  they  sat  about  the  stove,  the 
light  from  the  famous  window  bringing  out  with 
clear  distinctness  Brick's  huge  form  and  bristling 
beard,  Bill's  thin  figure  surmounted  by  its  shock 
of  white  hair,  and  Wilfred's  handsome  grave  face 
and  splendidly  developed  physique.  It  was  so  warm 
below  the  ground  that  the  fire  in  the  stove  was 
maintained  at  the  lowest  state  possible;  but  when 
the  western  light  quickly  vanished  from  the  window, 
the  glowing  coals  gave  hojnely  cheer  to  the  crude 
room. 

In  answer  to  their  questioner,  Wilfred  told  of  his 
experiences  on  his  quarter-section:  how  he  had 
broken  the  prairie  land,  put  in  his  crops,  watched 
them  wither  away  in  the  terrible  dry  months, 
roughed  it  through  the  winters,  tried  again,  fought 
through  another  drought,  staked  all  on  the  next 


A  SURE-ENOUGH  MAN  179 

spring's  planting,  raised  a  half-crop,  paid  off  his 
chattel  mortgage,  tried  again, —  succeeded. 

"  I've  stayed  right  with  it,"  he  said  gravely,  look- 
ing from  one  to  the  other  as  they  smoked  in  silence, 
their  eyes  on  his  animated  face.  "Of  course,  they 
required  me  to  stay  on  the  land  only  during  certain 
months,  every  year.  But  I  stayed  with  it  all  the 
time;  and  I  studied  it;  and  when  I  failed,  as  I  did 
year  after  year,  I  failed  each  time  in  a  different 
way,  because  I  learned  my  lesson.  And  when  I'd 
walled  off  the  cause  of  each  failure,  one  by  one, 
seemed  like  there  opened  before  me  a  broad  clear 
way  that  led  right  into  the  goal  I'd  been  seeking 
from  the  first  day.  Then  I  closed  out  all  my  deals, 
and  looked  and  saw  that  everything  was  trim  and 
ready  for  winter  —  and  got  my  horse  and  started 
for  Greer  County." 

"  And  glad  we  are !  "  cried  Bill  Atkins.  "  I  hope 
you  can  stay  a  long  time." 

"  That  depends  .  .  .  Lahoma  is  well,  I  suppose?  " 

"The  picture  of  health  —  when  she  left,"  Brick 
declared  admiringly,  "and  the  prettiest  little  gal 
this  side  of  the  angels.  When  the  early  sunlight 
peeps  over  the  mountain  and  laughs  at  the  cove  that's 
sulking  from  thinking  it's  about  to  be  left  out  in 
the  day's  doings  —  that's  like  Lahoma's  smile. 


H8o  LAHOMA 

And  when  you  get  down  sick  as  I  done  once  from 
causes  incidental  to  being  made  of  flesh  and  blood, 
and  she  come  and  laid  her  hand  on  my  burning  fore- 
head, her  touch  always  made  me  think  of  an  angel's 
wing,  somehow,  although  I  ain't  never  set  up  to  be 
religious,  and  I  think  of  such  things  as  little  as 
may  be  —  except  when  Bill  draws  me  to  the  sub- 
ject from  seeing  him  so  puny,  at  times." 

"  Lahoma's  not  here?  "  Wilfred  asked  anxiously. 

"  Not  now,  nor  for  some  time,"  answered  Brick. 

"  I  wish,"  interposed  Bill  glumly,  "  that  when 
you're  going  to  talk  about  me,  Brick,  you'd  begin 
with  Bill  and  not  be  dragging  me  in  at  the  tail- 
end  of  what  concerns  other  people.  I  reckon,  Wil- 
fred, you  just  traveled  here  to  take  a  look  at  the 
country  where  you  used  to  herd  cattle?" 

"  That  wasn't  my  reason.  Principally,  I  wanted 
to  see  Lahoma;  and  incidentally,  my  brother." 

"  Your  brother  ?     He  ain't  in  these  parts,  is  he  ?  " 

"No,"  ruefully,  "but  I  expected  him  to  be. 
.When  I  left  home  to  turn  cow-puncher,  I  didn't  tell , 
anybody  where  I'd  gone;  but  just  before  I  left  for 
Oklahoma  to  turn  farmer,  I  wrote  to  my  brother. 
And  about  a  month  ago,  seeing  things  clearing  up 
before  me,  I  asked  him  to  meet  me  here  at  Tent 
City  —  he's  interested  in  new  towns ;  he's  employed 


A  SURE-ENOUGH  MAN  181, 

by  a  rich  man  to  plant  hardware-stores,  and  I 
thought  he  might  find  an  opening  here.  He  came 
on,  and  was  here  several  weeks  with  a  party  of 
sightseers  from  Chicago;  but  he  left  with  them 
about  a  week  ago." 

Willock  sat  suddenly  erect.  "  Couldn't  have  been 
that  Sellimer  crowd,  I  reckon,  from  Chicago  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  Mrs.  Sellimer  and  her  daughter,  and 
some  of  their  friends." 

Willock  whistled  loudly.  "And  that  up-and- 
down  looking  chap  in  the  gold  nose-glasses  was 
your  brother  ?  " 

"Never  thought  of  that,"  Bill  exclaimed,  "al- 
though he  had  your  name  —  he  looked  so  different ! 
But  now  that  you've  laid  aside  your  cowboy  rigging, 
I  guess  you  could  sit  in  his  class,  down  at  the  bot- 
tom of  it." 

Willock  was  uneasy.  "  I  was  told,"  he  observed, 
"  and  I  took  the  trouble  to  get  datty  on  the  subject, 
that  them  Sellimers  —  the  mother  and  daughter,  and 
the  herd  they  drift  with  —  is  of  the  highest  pedi- 
gree Chicago  can  produce.  It  sort  of  jolts  me  to 
find  out  that  anybody  we  know  is  kin  to  the  bunch !  " 

Wilfred  laughed  without  bitterness.  "  Don't  let 
my  kinship  to  brother  Edgerton  disturb  your  ideal. 
We're  so  different  that  we  parted  without  saying 


182  LAHOMA 

good-by,  and  although  I  had  the  weakness  to  imag- 
ine we  might  patch  up  old  differences  if  we  could 
meet  here  in  the  desert,  I  suppose  we'd  have  fallen 
out  in  a  day  or  two  —  we're  so  unlike.  And  as  to 
Miss  Sellimer  —  Annabel  Sellimer  —  she  is  the  girl 
whose  letters  I  was  carrying  about  with  me  when 
I  first  saw  you.  She  refused  me  because  I  was  as 
poor  as  herself ;  so  you  see,  the  whole  bunch  is  out 
of  my  class." 

"That's  good,"  Willock's  face  cleared  up. 
"  Mind  you,  I  ain't  saying  that  as  for  me  and 
Bill,  we'd  wouldn't  rather  sit  with  you  in  a  dugout 
than  with  them  in  a  palace  on  Lake  Michigan.  But 
it's  all  a  matter  of  getting  Lahoma  out  into  the 
big  world,  and  you  gave  me  a  terrible  jolt,  scaring 
me  that  after  all  we'd  made  a  mistake,  and  they  was 
just  of  your  plain  every-day  cloth." 

Wilfred  moved  uneasily.  "  Has  Lahoma  made 
their  acquaintance,  then  ?  " 

"It  looks  like  it,  don't  it?" 

"What  looks  like  it?"  Wilfred  asked  with  sud- 
den sharpness. 

"  Why,  her  going  off  with  'em  to  spend  the  winter 
in  high  life." 

"  That's  why  I  was  so  glad  to  see  you,"  Bill  ex- 
plained, "her  being  gone,  and  us  so  lonesome. 


A  SURE-ENOUGH  MAN  183 

That's  why  I'd  like  to  have  you  stay  with  us  a  long 
time  —  until  she  comes  back,  if  it  suits  you." 

"But  I  thought.  .  .  .  But  I  came  here  to 
see  Lahoma,"  cried  Wilfred,  unable  to  conceal 
his  disappointment.  "  I  thought  as  I  came 
up  the  road  that  I  saw  her  half -opening  the 
cabin-door." 

"  That  was  Red  Feather  taking  a  peep  at  you. 
He's  the  Indian  that  brought  Lahoma  to  Willock, 
as  a  child.  He  comes,  about  once  a  year,  to  see 
us,  but  this  time  he  was  a  little  too  late  for  La- 
homa. <Yes,  she's  gone  East  —  they're  all  putting 
up  in  Kansas  City  just  now,  on  their  way  to  Chi- 
cago." 

"  Son,"  said  Willock,  puffing  steadily  at  his  pipe, 
"  why  did  you  want  to  see  Lahoma  ?  " 

"Well  —  you  know  she  was  just  a  child  when 
I  was  here  before,  but  she's  hovered  before  my  mind 
a  good  deal  —  I've  been  too  busy  to  seek  the  ac- 
quaintance of  strangers  —  just  want  to  keep  the 
few  I  know."  He  blew  a  rueful  breath.  "  You 
can't  think  how  all  my  air-castles  have  fallen  about 
my  ears !  I  wanted  to  see  Lahoma !  Yes,  I  wanted 
to  see  how  she'd  turned  out.  I  have  a  good  farm, 
now,  not  very  far  from  Oklahoma  City  and  — 
Well,  being  alone  there,  year  after  year,  a  fellow 


LAHOMA 

gets  to  imagining  a  great  many  things — "  He 
stopped  abruptly. 

"That's  so,"  Willock  agreed  sympathetically. 
"  I  ain't  a-saying  that  if  Lahoma'd  been  like  me 
and  Bill,  she  mightn't  of  liked  farming  with  you 
first-class.  But  she  was  born  as  an  associate  of 
high  men  and  women,  not  cows  and  chickens.  It's 
the  big  world  for  her,  and  that's  where  she's  gone. 
She's  with  real  folks.  Be  Mr.  Edgerton  Compton 
your  brother,  or  be  he  not,  you  can't  imagine  him 
setting  down  with  us  sociable  in  this  dugout. 
You're  right  about  his  being  different.  And  the 
fact  that  Miss  Sellimer  turned  you  down  is  en- 
couraging, too.  It  shows  you  couldn't  run  in  her 
course;  you  didn't  have  the  speed.  I  guess  we 
ain't  made  no  mistake  after  all." 

There  was  silence,  broken  presently,  by  Bill—' 
"  I'm  glad  you've  come,  sure !  " 

Presently  the  door  opened,  and  the  Indian  chief 
glided  into  the  apartment  with  a  grunt  of  salutation. 
He  spread  his  blanket  in  a  corner,  and  sat  down, 
turning  a  stolid  face  to  the  fire. 

"  Don't  pay  no  attention  to  him,"  remarked  Wil- 
lock, as  if  speaking  of  some  wild  animal.  "  He 
comes  and  goes,  and  isn't  troublesome  if  you  feeds 


A  SURE-ENOUGH  MAN  185 

and  sleeps  him,  and  don't  try  to  lay  your  hand  on 
him." 

Bill  Atkins  rose.  "  But  7  always  light  up  when 
he  comes,"  he  remarked,  reaching  stiffly  for  a  lan- 
tern which  in  due  time  glimmered  from  the  parti- 
tion wall.  "  Are  you  hungry,  Wilfred?  We  never 
feed  till  late;  it  gives  us  something  to  sleep  on.  I 
lie  awake  pretty  constantly  all  night,  anyhow,  and 
when  I  eat  late,  my  stomach  sorter  keeps  me  com- 
pany." 

Wilfred  declared  that  he  was  not  in  the  least 
hungry. 

"  I'm  afraid  you're  disappointed,  son,"  observed 
Willock,  filling  his  pipe  anew. 

Wilfred  turned  to  him  with  a  frank  smile. 
"Brick  —  it's  just  awful!  It's  what  comes  from 
depending  on  something  you've  no  right  to  consider 
a  sure  thing.  I  never  thought  of  this  cove  without 
Lahoma  in  it;  didn't  seem  like  it  could  be  so  empty. 
.  .  .  How  did  she  get  acquainted  with  Anna- 
bel ?  —  and  with  my  brother  ?  " 

"  It  come  about,  son.  I  see  at  once  that  the 
bunch  of  'em  was  from  the  big  world.  I  come  home 
and  told  Bill,  '  Them's  the  people  to  tow  Lahoma 
out  into  life,'  says  I.  So  they  invited  her  to  spend 


1 86  LAHOMA 

the  winter  with  them,  the  Sellimers  did,  and  show 
her  city  doings." 

"  Yes  —  but  how  did  it  come  about  ?  " 

•"Nothing  more  natural.  I  goes  over  to  their 
tent  and  I  tells  them  of  the  curiosities  and  good 
points  of  these  mountains,  and  gets  'em  to  come  on 
a  sort  of  picnic  to  explore.  So  here  they  comes, 
and  they  gets  scattered,  what  with  Bill  and  La- 
homa  and  me  taking  different  ways  —  they  liked 
Lahoma  first  time  they  see  her,  as  a  matter  of  course. 
And  so,  that  Miss  Sellimer,  she  gets  separated  from 
all  the  rest,  and  I  shows  her  a  dandy  hiding-place 
where  nobody  couldn't  find  her,  and  I  shows  her 
what  a  good  joke  it  would  be  to  pretend  to  be  lost. 
So  I  leaves  her  there  to  go  to  tell  her  crowd  she 
dares  'em  to  find  her.  Are  you  listening  ?  " 

"  Of  course." 

"  Well,  while  she  was  setting  there  waiting  to  be 
searched  for,  of  a  sudden  a  great  big  Injun  in  a 
blanket  and  feathers  and  red  paint  jumps  down  be- 
side her  and  grabs  her  and  picks  her  up,  and  about 
as  quick  as  she  knew  anything,  she  was  gagged  and 
bound  and  being  bore  along  through  the  air.  I 
reckon  it  was  a  terrible  moment  for  her.  Now 
there  is  a  crevice  in  the  top  of  the  mountain  that 
nobody  don't  never  explore,  because  it's  just  a 


A  SURE-ENOUGH  MAN  187 

crack  in  the  rock  that  ain't  to  be  climbed  out  of 
without  a  ladder.  So  the  Injun  carries  her  there, 
and  lets  her  down  with  a  rope  that  it  seems  he  must 
of  had  handy  somewheres,  and  he  puts  out;  and 
there  she  is,  in  a  holler  in  the  mountain,  not  able 
to  move  or  cry  out  no  more  than  if  she'd  been 
captured  by  a  regular  highwayman." 

Wilfred  stared  at  Willock  in  complete  bewilder- 
ment. Willock  chuckled. 

ft  There  was  a  terrible  time !  "  remarked  Bill. 

"  Dark  was  a-coming  on  before  the  party  got 
plumb  scared,"  Willock  continued,  "  but  they 
brushed  and  combed  that  mountain  looking  for  the 
poor  lost  lady,  and  as  I  tells  'em  she's  a-hiding 
a-purpose,  they  think  it  a  pore  sort  of  joke  till  mid- 
night catches  'em  mighty  serious.  Torches  is  car- 
ried here  and  there  and  everywhere,  but  no  use. 
You  would  think  that  the  next  day  the  crowd  would 
naturally  look  down  in  that  crevice,  but  that's  be- 
cause I've  posted  you  up  on  where  she  is.  There's 
lots  of  other  crevices,  and  no  reason  as  they  can 
see  why  Miss  Sellimer  should  take  the  trouble  to 
worm  herself  down  into  any  of  'em  —  and  as  no- 
body saw  that  Injun,  how  could  they  suspicion  foul 
play?  It  must  of  been  awful  for  pore  Miss  Selli- 
mer, all  bound  and  gagged  in  that  horrible  way,  but 


1 88  LAHOMA 

it  takes  heroic  treatment  to  get  some  cures  —  and 
so  Lahoma  went  with  'em  to  spend  the  winter." 

"But  the  Indian  —  ?  " 

"  Needn't  think  about  him  no  more,  son,  we  got 
no  more  use  for  that  Injun.  Well,  on  the  next  day, 
Lahoma  is  looking  everywhere,  being  urged  on  by 
me,  and  lo,  and  behold!  when  she  comes  to  that 
crevice  —  looked  like  she  couldn't  be  induced  to  go 
there  of  her  own  will,  but  it  was  brung  about  finally 
—  what  does  she  see  but  a  tomahawk  lying  right  at 
the  edge  what  must  have  been  dropped  there  recent, 
or  the  crowd  would  have  saw  it  the  day  before.  It 
come  to  her  that  Miss  Sellimer  is  a  prisoner  down 
below.  She  looks,  but  it's  too  dark  to  see  noth- 
ing. Not  telling  nobody  for  fear  of  starting  up 
false  hopes,  she  gets  a  light  and  lowers  it  —  and 
there  is  that  miserable  young  woman,  bound  and 
gagged  and  her  pretty  dress  all  tore.  Lahoma 
jumps  to  her  feet  to  raise  the  cry,  when  she  dis- 
covers a  ladder  under  a  boulder  which  the  Injun 
must  have  put  there  meaning  to  descend  to  his  victim 
when  the  coast  was  clear.  Down  she  skins,  and 
frees  Miss  Sellimer,  who's  half  dead,  poor  young 
lady!  Lahoma  comes  up  the  ladder  and  meets  me 
and  I  carries  her  out  just  like  a  feather  —  Well, 
can't  you  imagine  the  rest?  I  reckon  if  Miss  Sel- 


A  SURE-ENOUGH  MAN  189 

limer  lives  a  thousand  years  she'll  never  forget  the 
aw  fulness  of  that  big  Injun  and  the  angel  sweetness 
of  the  little  gal  that  saved  her.  Why,  if  Lahoma 
had  asked  for  the  rings  off  her  fingers,  she  could 
have  had  'em,  diamonds  and  all." 

Wilfred  rose  and  went  to  stare  at  the  darkness 
from  the  small  square  window.  Not  a  word  was 
spoken  for  some  time.  At  last  the  silence  was 
broken  by  the  Indian  —  "Ugh!"  grunted  Red 
Feather. 

"  Just  so !  "  remarked  Wilfred,  with  exceeding 
dryness. 

"What  are  you  thinking,  Wilfred?"  demanded 
Brick  Willock. 

"I'd  have  thought  Lahoma  would  recognize  the 
ladder." 

"  So  she  done ;  but  couldn't  the  Injun  have  stole 
my  ladder  and  carried  it  to  that  boulder?  Just  as 
soon  as  M'iss  Sellimer  was  well  enough  to  travel, 
nothing  couldn't  hold  her  in  these  parts,  and  that's 
why  your  brother  had  to  leave  before  seeing  you  — 
he's  setting  to  Miss  Sellimer,  and  if  Lahoma 
don't  git  him  away  from  her,  I  reckon  he's  a 
goner ! " 

Bill  Atkins  spoke  vaguely.  "  It  wasn't  none  of 
my  doings." 


190  LAHOMA 

Wilfred  looked  steadily  at  Willock.  "What 
about  your  whiskers?" 

"  Oh,  as  to  them,  it  was  like  old  times ;  you  takes 
a  cloth  and  cuts  it  out  —  painted  red  —  Psha ! 
What  are  we  talking  of?  Bill,  let's  show  him  her 
letter  —  what  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  it  wouldn't  hurt,"  Bill  conceded. 

"How'd  you  like  it,  Wilfred?  We  can't  pro- 
duce our  little  gal  to  keep  you  company,  but  her 
letter  would  sort  of  be  like  hearing  her  talk,  wouldn't 
it?  And  if  you  stay  with  us  a  spell,  we'll  let  you 
read  'em  as  they  come." 

Wilfred  perceived  that  Willock  was  anxious  to 
get  his'  mind  off  the  harrowing  adventure  of  the 
crevice,  and  as  he  was  eager  to  hear  the  letter,  and 
as  Brick  and  Bill  were  anxious  to  hear  it  again, 
nothing  more  was  said  about  the  "  big  Injun." 

"Who'll  read  it?"  asked  Bill,  as  he  drew  the 
precious  letter  from  the  strong  box  behind  the  stove. 

"  Let  Wilfred  do  the  deed,"  Willock  suggested. 
"  It  travels  slow  in  my  company,  and  though  Bill 
reads  'er  correct,  he  does  considerable  droning.  I 
expect  if  Wilfred  reads  it  with  unction,  it'll  sound 
like  a  new  document." 

Wilfred  drew  the  only  stool  in  the  room  up  be- 
side the  lantern,  and  Bill  and  Brick  disposed  them- 


A  SURE-ENOUGH  MAN  191 

selves  on  the  bench,  each  holding  his  pipe  on  his 
knee  as  if  fearful  of  losing  a  word.  Red  Feather, 
his  beady  eyes  fastened  on  the  young  man's  face, 
sat  gracefully  erect,  apparently  alert  to  all  that  was 
going  on.  The  lantern  reddened  the  strong  clean- 
cut  face  of  the  young  man,  and  touched  the  up- 
turned pages  to  the  whiteness  of  snow.  A  sudden 
wind  had  sprung  up,  and  the  flaring  blaze  from  the 
open  stove-door  touched  to  vivid  distinctness  the 
giant,  the  old  man  and  the  Indian.  Brick  closed 
the  stove-door,  and  the  sudden  gloom  brought  out 
in  mellow  effect  Wilfred's  animated  face,  the  dull 
yellow  wall  against  which  his  sturdy  shoulder  rested, 
and  the  letter  in  his  hand. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

WRITING   HOME 

"T\  EAR  Brick  and  Bill: 

-L/  "  I  don't  know  what  to  tell  first.  It's  all 
so  strange  and  grand  —  the  people  are  just  people, 
but  the  things  are  wonderful.  The  people  want  it 
to  be  so ;  they  act,  and  think  according  to  the  things 
around  them.  They  pride  themselves  on  these 
things  and  on  being  amongst  them,  and  I  am  trying 
to  learn  to  do  that,  too.  When  I  lived  in  the  cove 
—  it  seems  a  long,  long  time  ago  —  my  thoughts 
were  always  away  from  dirt-floors  and  cook-stoves 
and  cedar  logs  and  wash-pans.  But  the  people  in 
the  big  world  keep  their  minds  tied  right  up  to  such 
things  —  only  the  things  are  finer  —  they  are 
marble  floors  and  magnificent  restaurants  and 
houses  on  what  they  call  the  'best  streets/  At 
meals,  there  are  all  kinds  of  little  spoons  and  forks, 
and  they  think  to  use  a  wrong  one  is  something 
dreadful;  that  is  why  I  say  the  forks  and  spoons 
seem  more  important  than  they  are,  but  they  want 

it  to  be  so. 

192 


WRITING  HOME  193 

\ 

"  They  have  certain  ways  of  doing  everything, 
and  just  certain  times  for  doing  them,  and  if  you 
do  a  wrong  thing  at  a  right  time,  or  a  right  thing 
at  a  wrong  time,  it  shows  you  are  from  the  West. 
At  first,  I  couldn't  say  a  word,  or  turn  around,  with- 
out showing  that  I  was  from  the  West.  But  al- 
though I've  been  from  home  only  a  few  days,  I'm 
getting  so  that  nobody  can  tell  that  I'm  more  im- 
portant than  the  furniture  around  me.  Fm  trying 
to  be  just  like  the  one  I'm  with,  and  I  don't  believe 
an  outsider  can  tell  that  I  have  any  more  sense 
than  the  rest  of  them. 

"  Miss  Sellimer  is  so  nice  to  me.  I  told  her  right 
at  the  start  that  I  didn't  know  anything  about  the 
big  world,  and  she  teaches  me  everything.  I'd  be 
more  comfortable  if  she  could  forget  about  my  sav- 
ing her  life,  but  she  never  can,  and  is  so  grateful  it 
makes  me  feel  that  I'm  enjoying  all  this  on  false 
pretenses  for  you  know  my  finding  her  was  only 
an  accident.  Her  mother  is  very  pleasant  to  me 
—  much  more  so  than  to  her.  Bill,  you  know  how 
you  speak  to  your  horse,  sometimes,  when  it  acts 
contrary?  That's  the  way  Miss  Sellimer  speaks  to 
her  mother,  at  times.  However,  they  don't  seem 
very  well  acquainted  with  each  other.  Of  course  if 
they'd  lived  together  in  a  cove  for  years,  they'd 


LAHOMA 

have  learned  to  tell  each  other  their  thoughts  and 
plans,  but  out  in  the  big  world  there  isn't  time 
for  anything  except  to  dress  and  go. 

"  I'm  learning  to  dress.  I  used  to  think  a  girl 
could  do  that  to  please  herself,  but  no,  the  dresses 
are  a  thousand  times  more  important  than  the  people 
inside  them.  It  wouldn't  matter  how  wise  you  are 
if  your  dress  is  wrong,  nor  would  it  matter  how 
foolish,  if  your  dress  is  like  everybody  else's.  A 
person  could  be  independent  and  do  as  she  pleased, 
but  she  wouldn't  be  in  society.  And  nobody  would 
believe  she  was  independent,  they  would  just  think 
she  didn't  know  any  better,  or  was  poor.  Because, 
they  don't  know  anything  about  being  independent; 
they  want  to  be  governed  by  their  things.  A  poor 
person  isn't  cut  off  from  society  because  he  hasn't 
money,  but  because  he  doesn't  know  how  to  deal 
with  high  things,  not  having  practised  amongst  them. 
It  isn't  because  society  people  have  lots  of  money 
that  they  stick  together,  but  because  all  of  them 
know  what  to  do  with  the  little  forks  and  spoons. 

"  It  is  like  the  dearest,  jolliest  kind  of  game  to 
me,  to  be  with  these  people,  and  say  just  what  they 
say,  and  like  what  they  like,  and  act  as  they  act  — 
and  that's  the  difference  between  me  and  them;  it's 


WRITING  HOME  195 

not  a  game  to  them,  it's  deadly  earnest.  They  think 
they're  living! 

"  Do  you  think  I  could  play  at  this  so  long  that 
one  day  I'd  imagine  I  was  doing  what  God  had  ex- 
pected of  me  when  he  sent  me  to  you,  Brick?  Could 
I  stay  out  in  the  big  world  until  I'd  think  of  the 
cove  as  a  cramped  little  pocket  in  the  wilderness 
with  two  pennies  jingling  at  the  bottom  of  it  named 
Brick  and  Bill?  If  I  thought  there  was  any  danger 
of  that,  I'd  start  home  in  the  morning! 

"We  are  in  a  Kansas  City  hotel  where  all  the 
feathers  are  in  ladies'  hats  and  bonnets  instead  of 
in  the  gentlemen's  hair.  To  get  to  our  rooms  you 
go  to  a  dark  little  door  and  push  something  that 
makes  a  bell  ring,  and  then  you  step  into  a  dugout 
on  pulleys,  that  shoots  up  in  the  air  so  quick  it  makes 
you  feel  a  part  of  you  has  fallen  out  and  got  lost. 
The  dugout  doesn't  slow  up  for  the  third  story,  it 
just  stops  that  quick  —  they  call  it  an  'elevator' 
and  it  certainly  does  elevate!  You  step  out  in  a 
dim  trail  where  there  are  dusky  kinds  of  lights,  al- 
though it  may  be  the  middle  of  the  day,  and  you 
follow  the  trail  over  a  narrow  yellow  desert,  turn 
to  your  right  and  keep  going  till  you  reach  a  door 
with  your  number  on  it.  When  you  are  in  your 


196  LAHOMA 

room,  you  see  the  things  that  are  considered  more 
important  than  the  people. 

"  There's  an  entire  room  set  apart  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  bathing!  —  and  the  room  with  the  bed 
in  it  is  separate  from  the  sitting-room.  You  can 
go  in  one  and  stay  a  while,  and  go  in  another  and 
stay  a  while,  and  then  go  in  the  third  —  and  you 
have  a  different  feeling  for  each  room  that  you're 
in.  I'd  rather  see  everything  at  once,  as  I  can  in 
my  cabin.  'And  that  bed !  If  my  little  bed  at  home 
could  be  brought  here  and  set  up  beside  this  hotel 
wonder,  the  very  walls  would  cry  out.  ...  I 
wish  I  could  sleep  in  my  little  bed  to-night,  and 
hear  the  wind  howling  over  the  mountain. 

"  The  dining-room  is  the  finest  thing  I  ever  saw ; 
I  doubt  if  the  kings  and  queens  of  old  times  ever 
ate  in  richer  surroundings.  There  are  rows  of  im- 
mense mirrors  along  the  wall  and  gold  borders  — 
and  then  the  tables!  I  wonder  what  would  hap- 
pen if  anybody  should  spread  newspapers  on  one 
of  these  wonderful  tables  and  use  them  for  a  table- 
cloth? At  home,  we  can  just  reach  out  and  take 
what  we  want  off  the  stove,  and  help  our  plates  with- 
out rising.  It's  so  different  here!  After  you've 
worried  over  crooked  lists  of  things  to  eat  that 
you've  never  heard  of,  and  have  hurried  to  select 


WRITING  HOME  197 

so  the  waiter  won't  have  to  lose  any  time,  the 
waiter  goes  away.  And  when  he  puts  something 
before  you,  you  don't  know  what  to  call  it,  because 
it's  been  so  long,  you've  forgotten  its  name  on  that 
awful  pasteboard.  But  there's  something  pleasant 
when  you've  finished,  in  just  getting  up  and  walk- 
ing away,  not  caring  who  cleans  up  the  dishes! 

"  I've  been  to  the  opera-house,  but  it  wasn't  an 
opera,  it  was  a  play.  That  house  —  I  wish  you 
could  see  it!  —  the  inside,  I  mean,  for  outside  it 
looks  like  it  needs  washing.  The  chairs  —  well,  if 
you  sent  that  stool  of  ours  to  a  university  you  couldn't 
train  it  up  to  look  anything  like  those  opera-chairs. 
And  the  dresses  —  the  diamonds.  .  .  .  Every- 
thing was  perfectly  lovely  except  what  we  had  come 
to  see,  and  my  party  thought  it  was  too  funny  for 
anything;  but  it  wasn't  funny  to  me.  The  story 
they  acted  was  all  about  a  young  couple  fooling  their 
parents  and  getting  married  without  father  and 
mother  knowing,  and  a  baby  brought  in  at  the  last 
that  nobody  would  claim  though  it  was  said  to 
be  somebody's  that  shouldn't  have  had  one  —  the 
audience  just  screamed  with  laughter  over  that;  I 
thought  they  never  would  quiet  down.  Out  in  ftie 
big  world,  babies  and  old  fathers  and  mothers  seem 
to  be  jokes.  The  star  of  the  evening  was  a  mar- 


198  LAHOMA 

ried  actress  with  'Miss'  before  her  name.  You 
could  hear  every  word  she  spoke,  but  the  others 
didn't  seem  to  try  to  make  themselves  plain  —  I 
guess  that's  why  they  aren't  stars,  too. 

"  I've  lived  more  during  the  last  week  than  I 
had  the  previous  fifty-one.  We  must  have  been  to 
everything  there  is,  except  a  church.  Yesterday 
was  Sunday,  and  I  asked  Mrs.  Sellimer  about  it, 
but  she  said  people  didn't  go  to  church  any  more. 

"  Maybe  you  wonder  why  I  don't  tell  you  about 
our  crowd,  but  I  guess  it's  because  I  feel  as  if  they 
didn't  matter.  I  wouldn't  say  that  to  anybody  in 
the  world  but  to  you,  Brick  and  Bill,  and  if  I  hadn't 
promised  to  write  you  every  single  thing,  I  wouldn't 
even  tell  you,  because  they  are  so  good  to  me.  It 
sounds  untrue  to  them,  doesn't  it?  But  you  won't 
tell  anybody,  because  you've  nobody  to  tell!  And 
besides,  they  could  be  different  in  a  minute  if  they 
wanted  to  be ;  it  isn't  as  if  they  were  helpless. 

"Miss  Sellimer  is  witty  and  talented,  and  from 
the  way  she  treats  me,  I  know  she  has  a  tender  heart. 
And  her  mother  is  a  perfect  wonder  of  a  manager, 
and  never  makes  mistakes  except  such  as  happen  to 
be  the  fad  of  the  hour.  And  Mr.  Edgerton  Comp- 
ton  could  be  splendid,  for  he  seems  to  know  every- 
thing, and  when  we  travel  with  him,  or  go  to  the 


WRITING  HOME  1199 

parks  and  all  that,  people  do  just  as  he  says,  as  if 
he  were  a  prince;  he  has  a  magnificent  way  of  show- 
ering money  on  porters  and  waiters  and  cabmen  that 
is  dazzling;  and  he  holds  himself  perfectly  without 
trying,  and  dresses  so  that  you  are  glad  you're 
with  him  in  a  crowd;  he  knows  what  to  do  all  the 
time  about  everything.  But  there  he  stops.  I 
mean,  he  isn't  trying  to  do  anything  that  matters. 
Neither  are  any  of  the  rest. 

"  What  they  are  working  at  now,  is  all  they  ex- 
pect to  work  at  as  long  as  they  live  —  and  it  takes 
awfully  hard  work  to  keep  up  with  their  set.  They 
call  it  'keeping  in  the  swim/  and  let  me  tell  you 
what  it  reminds  me  of  —  a  strong  young  steer  out 
in  a  '  tank/  using  all  the  strength  he  has  just  to 
keep  on  top  of  the  water,  instead  of  swimming  to 
shore  and  going  somewhere.  Society  people  don't 
go  anywhere ;  they  use  all  their  energy  staying  right 
where  they  are;  and  if  one  of  them  loses  grip  and 
goes  under  —  goodness! 

"  I  know  what  Mrs.  Sellimer  has  set  her  heart  on, 
because  she  has  already  begun  instructing  me  in  her 
ideals.  She  wants  her  daughter  to  marry  a  rich 
man,  and  Mr.  Edgerton  Compton  isn't  rich,  he  only 
looks  like  he  is.  Mrs.  Sellimer  feels  that  she's  ter- 
ribly poor,  herself;  it's  the  kind  of  poverty  that  has 


200  LAHOMA 

all  it  wants  to  eat  and  wear,  but  hasn't  as  many 
horses  and  servants  as  it  wants.  It's  just  as  hard 
on  her  as  it  would  be  on  you  if  the  bacon  gave  out 
and  you  couldn't  go  for  more.  Annabel  —  that's 
Miss  Sellimer  —  likes  Mr.  Compton  very,  very 
much,  but  she  feels  like  her  mother  about  marry- 
ing a  rich  man,  and  I  don't  think  he  has  much  chance. 
One  trouble  is  that  he  thinks  he  must  marry  a  rich 
girl,  so  they  just  go  on,  loving  each  other,  and  look- 
ing about  for  '  chances.'  , 

"  I  feel  like  I  oughtn't  to  be  wasting1  my  time  tell- 
ing about  my  friends  when  there  are  all  these  won- 
derful lights  and  carpets  and  decorations  and  con- 
veniences, so  much  more  interesting.  Whenever 
you  want  hot  water,  instead  of  bringing  a  bucket- 
ful from  the  spring  and  building  a  fire  and  sitting 
down  to  watch  it  simmer,  you  just  turn  a  handle 
and  out  it  comes,  smoking;  and  whenever  you  want 
ice-water,  you  touch  a  button  and  give  a  boy  ten 
cents. 

"  The  funny  thing  to  me  is  that  Annabel  and 
Mr.  Compton  both  think  they  have  to  marry  some- 
body rich,  or  not  marry  at  all.  They  really  don't 
know  they  could  marry  each  other,  because  imagin- 
ing they  would  be  unable  to  keep  the  wolf  from  the 
door.  That's  because  they  can't  imagine  themselves 


WRITING  HOME  201 

living  behind  anything  but  a  door  on  one  of  the 
'  best  streets/  We  know,  don't  we,  Brick  and  Bill, 
•that  it  takes  mighty  little  to  keep  the  coyote  from 
the  dugout!  And  there's  something  else  we  know: 
that  these  people  haven't  dreampt  of  —  that  there's 
happiness  and  love  in  many  and  many  a  dugout.  I 
don't  know  what's  behind  the  doors  on  the  'best 
streets.' 

"  We  are  not  going  straight  on  to  Chicago.  A 
gentleman  has  invited  the  Sellimers,  which  of  course 
includes  me,  to  a  house-party  in  the  country  not 
far  from  Kansas  City.  He  is  a  very  rich  man  of 
middle  age,  so  they  tell  me,  a  widower,  who  is  in- 
terested in  our  sex  and  particularly  in  Annabel  Sel- 
limer.  Mr.  Edgerton  Compton  isn't  invited.  You 
see,  he's  a  sort  of  rival  —  a  poor  rival.  This 
middle-aged  man  has  known  the  Sellimers  a  long 
time,  and  he  has  been  trying  to  win  Annabel  for  a 
year  or  two.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  Mr.  Compton 
she'd  have  married  his  house  before  now,  I  gather. 
The  house  is  said  to  be  immense,  in  a  splendid  es- 
tate near  the  river.  I.  am  all  excitement  when  I 
think  of  going  there  for  ten  days.  There  are  to 
be  fifty  guests  and  the  other  forty-nine  are  invited 
as  a  means  of  getting  Annabel  under  his  roof. 
Won't  I  feel  like  a  little  girl  in  an  old  English 


202  LAHOMA1 

novel!  The  best  of  it  is  that  nobody  will  bother 
me  —  I'm  too  poor  to  be  looked  at  a  second  time, 
I  mean,  what  they  call  poor.  Sometimes  I  laugh 
when  I'm  alone,  for  I  feel  like  I'm  a  gold  mine  filled 
with  rich  ore  that  nobody  has  discovered.  Remem- 
ber the  '  fool's  gold '  we  used  to  see  among  the 
granite  mountains?  I  think  the  gold  that  lies  on 
the  surface  must  always  be  fool's  gold.  The  name 
of  the  country-house  we  are  to  visit  is  the  same  as 
that  of  the  man  who  owns  it — " 

Wilfred  Compton  held  the  letter  closer  to  the 
light. 

Brick  Willock  spoke  impatiently:  "No  use  to 
stare  at  that  there  word  —  we  couldn't  make  it  out. 
I  guess  she  got  it  wrong,  first,  then  wrote  it  over. 
Just  go  ahead." 

Bill  suggested,  "  I  think  the  first  letter  is  an  '  S.'  " 

Wilfred  scrutinized  the  name  closely. 

"  Besides,"  said  Willock,  "  we  knows  none  of 
them  high  people,  the  name  wouldn't  be  nothing  to 
us  —  and  her  next  letter  will  likely  have  it  more'n 


once." 


Wilfred  resumed  the  letter:  "I  must  tell  you 
good-by,  now,  for  Annabel's  maid  has  come  to  help 
me  dress  for  dinner,  and  it  takes  longer  than  it  did 
to  do  up  the  washing,  at  the  cove ;  and  is  more  tire- 


WRITING  HOME  203 

some.  But  I  like  it.  I  like  these  fine,  soft,  beauti- 
ful things.  I  like  the  big  world,  and  I  would  like 
to  live  in  it  forever  and  ever,  if  you  could  bring  the 
dugout  and  be  near  enough  for  me  to  run  in,  any 
time  of  the  day.  I  wish  I  could  run  in  this  minute 
and  tell  you  the  thousands  and  thousands  of  things 
I'll  never  have  time  to  write. 

"Your  loving,  adoring,  half -homesick,  half-be- 
wildered, somewhat  dizzy  little  girl, 

"  LAHOMA. 

"  P.  S.  Nobody  has  been  al>le  to  tell  from  word 
or  look  of  mine  that  I  have  ever  been  surprised  at 
a  single  thing  I  have  heard  or  seen.  You  may  be 
quite  sure  of  that." 

"  I  bet  you !  "  cried  Willock  admiringly.  "  Now, 
what  do  you  think  of  it?  " 

"  She  won't  be  there  long1,"  remarked  Bill,  wav- 
ing his  arm,  "  till  she  finds  out  what  I  learned  long 
ago  —  that  there's  nothing  to  it.  If  you  want  to 
cultivate  a  liking  for  a  dugout,  just  live  a  while  in 
the  open." 

"  I  don't  know  as  to  that,"  WillocE  said.  "  I 
sorter  doubts  if  Lahoma  will  ever  care  for  dugouts 
again,  except  as  she  stays  on  the  outside  of  'em,  and 
gets  to  romancing.  A  mouthful  of  real  ice-cream 


-04  LAHOMA 

spoils  your  taste  everlasting  for  frozen  starch  and 
raw  eggs." 

"Lahoma  is  a  real  person,"  declared  Bill,  "and 
a  dugout  is  grounded  and  bedded  in  a  real  thing  — 
this  very  solid  and  very  real  old  earth,  if  you  ask  to 
know  what  I  mean." 

"  Lord,  /  knows  what  you  mean,"  retorted  Wil- 
lock.  "  You've  lived  in  a  hole  in  the  ground  most 
of  your  life,  and  are  pretty  near  ripe  to  be  laid  away 
in  another  one,  smaller  I  grant  you,  but  dark  and 
deep,  according.  We'll  never  get  Lahoma  back  the 
same  as  when  we  let  her  flutter  forth  hunting  a  green 
twig  over  the  face  of  the  waters.  She  may  bring 
back  the  first  few  leaves  she  finds,  but  a  time's  go- 
ing to  come.  ..."  He  broke  off  abruptly,  his 
eyes  wide  and  troubled,  as  if  already  viewing  the  dis- 
mal prospect. 

"  Maybe  I  am  old,"  Bill  grudgingly  conceded, 
"  but  I  don't  set  up  to  be  no  Noah's  ark." 

"Oh,"  cried  Willock,  his  sudden  sense  of  future 
loss  causing  him  to  speak  with  unwonted  irony, 
"  maybe  you're  just  a  Shem,  or  Ham  or  that  other 
kind  of  Fat—- What's  the  matter,  Wilfred?  Can't 
you  let  go  of  that  letter  ?  " 

"  I've  made  out  the  name  of  that  widower  who's, 
paying  court  to  my  old  sweetheart,"  he  said,  "  but 


WRITING  HOME  205 

it's  one  I  never  heard  of  before;  that's  why  it 
looked  so  strange  —  it's  Gledware." 

Willock  uttered  a  sharp  exclamation.  "  Let  me 
see  it."  He  started  up  abruptly,  and  bent  over  the 
page. 

"What  of  it?"  asked  Bill  in  surprise.  Willock 
had  uttered  words  to  which  the  dugout  was  un- 
accustomed. 

"That's  what  it  is,"  Willock  growled;  "it's 
Gledware!"  His  face  had  grown  strangely  dark 
and  forbidding,  and  Wilfred,  who  had  never  imag- 
ined it  could  be  altered  by  such  an  expression, 
handed  him  the  letter  with  a  sense  of  uneasiness. 

"What  of  it?"  reiterated  Bill.  "Suppose  it  is 
Gledware ;  who  is  he?  " 

"  Do  you  know  such  a  man?  "  Wilfred  demanded. 

"Out  with  it!"  cried  Bill,  growing  wrathful  as 
the  other  glowered  at  the  fire.  "  What's  come  over 
you?  Look  here,  Brick  Willock,  Lahoma  is  your 
cousin,  but  I  claim  ray  share  in  that  little  girl  and 
I  ask  you  sharp  and  flat  — " 

"  Oh  you  go  to  —  ! "  cried  Willock  fiercely. 
"  All  of  you." 

Wilfred  said  lightly,  "  Red  Feather  has  already- 
gone  there,  perhaps." 

"Eh?"  Willock  wheeled  about  as  if  roused  to 


206  J^AHOMA 

fresh  uneasiness.  The  Indian  chief  had  glided  from 
the  room,  as  silent  and  as  unobtrusive  as  a 
shadow. 

Willock  sank  on  the  bench  beside  Bill  Atkins  and 
said  harshly,  "Where's  my  pipe?" 

"  Don't  you  ask  me  where  your  pipe  is,"  snapped 
Bill.  "  Yonder  it  is  in  the  corner  where  you 
dropped  it." 

Willock  picked  it  up,  and  slowly  recovered  him- 
self. "  You  see,"  he  observed  apologetically,  "  I 
need  Lahoma  about,  to  keep  me  tame.  I  was 
wondering  the  other  day  if  I  could  swear  if  I 
wanted  to.  I  guess  I  could.  And  if  put  to  it,  I 
guess  I  could  take  up  my  old  life  and  not  be  very 
awkward  about  it,  either  —  I  used  to  be  a  tax-col- 
lector, and  of  course  got  rubbed  up  against  many 
people  that  didn't  want  to  pay.  That  there  Gled- 
ware  —  well !  maybe  it  isn't  this  one  Lahoma  writes 
about,  but  the  one  I  knew  is  just  about  middle  age, 
and  he's  a  widower,  all  right,  or  the  next  thing  to 
it  —  I  didn't  like  Gledware.  That  was  all.  I  hate 
for  Lahoma  to  be  throwed  with  anybody  of  the 
name  —  but  I  guess  it's  all  right.  Lahoma  ain't 
going  to  let  nobody  get  on  her  off-side,  when  the 
wind's  blowing." 


WRITING  HOME  207 

Bill  inquired  anxiously,  "  Did  that  Gledware  you 
knew,  live  near  Kansas  City  ?  " 

"  He  lived  over  in  Indian  Territory,  last  time  I 
heard  of  him.  But  he  was  a  roving  devil  —  he 
might  be  anywhere.  Only  —  he  wasn't  rich;  why, 
he  didn't  have  nothing  on  earth  except  a  little  — 
yes,  except  a  little." 

"  Then  he  can't  be  the  owner  of  a  big  estate,"  re- 
marked Wilfred,  with  relief. 

"  I  don't  know  that.  Folks  goes  into  the  Ter- 
ritory, and  somehow  they  contrives  to  come  out 
loaded  down.  But  I  hope  to  the  Almighty  it's  a 
different  Gledware ! " 

"  Lahoma  can  hold  her  own,"  Bill  remarked  con- 
fidently. "  You  just  wait  till  her  next  letter  comes, 
and  see  if  she  ain't  flying  her  colors  as  gallant  as 
when  she  sailed  out  of  the  cove." 

Wilfred  reflected  that  his  invitation  to  remain  had 
been  sincere;  there  was  nothing  to  hurry  him  back 
to  the  Oklahoma  country  —  he  would,  at  least,  stay 
until  the  next  letter  came.  His  interest  in  Lahoma 
was  of  course  vague  and  dreamy,  founded  rather  on 
the  fancies  of  a  thousand-and-one-nights  than  upon 
the  actual  interview  of  a  brief  hour.  But  the  re- 
markable change  that  had  taken  possession  of  Wil- 


208  LAHOMA 

lock  at  the  mention  of  Gledware's  name,  had  im- 
pressed the  young  man  profoundly.  In  that  mo- 
ment, all  the  geniality  and  kindliness  of  the  huge 
fellow  had  vanished,  and  the  great  whiskered  face 
had  looked  so  wild  and  dangerous,  the  giant  fists 
had  doubled  so  threateningly,  that  long  after  the 
brow  smoothed  and  the  muscles  relaxed,  it  was  im- 
possible to  forget  the  ferocious  picture. 

"  That's  what  I'll  do/'  Wilfred  declared,  settling 
back  in  his  seat,  "  I'll  wait  until  that  next  letter 


comes." 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  DAY   OF   FENCES 

WHILE  waiting  for  Lahoma's  letter,  Wilfred 
Compton  spent  his  days  in  ceaseless  activity, 
his  evenings  in  dreamy  musings.  Over  on  the 
North  Fork  of  Red  River  —  which  was  still  re- 
garded as  Red  River  proper,  and  therefore  the  di- 
viding line  between  Texas  and  Indian  Territory  — 
he  renewed  his  acquaintance  with  the  boys  of  Old 
Man  Walker's  ranch.  Henry  Woodson,  the  cow- 
puncher,  still  known  as  Mizzoo  was  one  of  the  old 
gang  who  greeted  Wilfred  with  extravagant  joy 
which  shaded  away  to  easy  and  picturesque  melan- 
choly in  lamenting  the  passing  of  the  good  old 
days. 

"  These  is  the  days  of  fences,"  complained  Mizzoo, 
as  Wilfred,  in  answer  to  his  invitation,  rode  forth 
with  him  to  view  the  changes.  "  Time  was,  our 
cattle  was  bounded  on  the  south  by  nothing  but 
the  south  wind,  and  on  the  north  by  nothing  but  the 
north  wind;  but  these  unmitigated  settlers  has 

spiled  the  cattle  business.     I'm  looking  for  the  old 

209 


210  LAHOMA 

man  to  sell  out  and  quit.  Why,  look  at  all  the  little 
towns  that  has  sprung  up  so  confusing  and  handy 
that  you  don't  know  which  to  choose  to  liquor  up. 
They  comes  like  a  thief  in  the  night,  and  in  the 
morning  they're  equipped  to  rob  you.  I  can't  keep 
no  change  by  me  —  I've  asked  the  old  man  to  hold 
back  my  wages  till  the  end  of  the  year.  But  I'm 
calculating  to  make  something  out  of  these  very 
misfortunes.  You  know  I  always  was  sort  of 
thrifty  —  yes,  as  they  got  to  be  a  settled  county 
round  us,  it'll  needs  call  for  a  sheriff,  and  if  all 
signs  don't  fail,  I'll  get  the  job  this  week.  Then 
there'll  be  no  more  riding  of  the  line  for  old  Miz- 


zoo." 


Wilfred  rode  with  him  to  Mangum,  and  other 
villages,  with  names  and  without,  and  he  tingled 
to  the  spirit  of  the  bounding  West.  There  might 
be  only  a  few  dugouts,  some  dingy  tents  and  a  build- 
ing or  so  of  undressed  pine,  but  each  hamlet  felt 
in  itself  the  possibilities  of  a  city,  and  had  its  spaces 
in  the  glaring  sands  or  the  dead  sagebrush  which  it 
called  "  the  Square  "  and  "  Main  Street "  and  pos- 
sibly "the  park."  The  air  quivered  with  expecta- 
tions of  a  railroad,  maybe  two  or  three,  and  each 
cluster  of  hovels  expected  to  find  itself  in  a  short 


THE  DAY  OF  FENCES  211 

time  constituted  the  county-seat,  with  a  gleaming 
steel  road  at  its  back  door. 

This  spirit  of  optimism  was  but  a  reflection  of 
the  miraculous  growth  of  the  new  country  of  which 
Greer  County,  though  owned  by  Texas,  felt  itself, 
in  a  sense,  an  integral  part.  Eight  years  before, 
Indian  Territory  was  the  hunting-ground  of  the 
Indian,  and  whosoever  attempted  to  settle  within 
its  limits  was  driven  forth  by  the  soldiers.  It  was 
then  a  land  of  dim  twilight,  full  of  mystery  and 
wildness,  with  vast  stretches  of  thirsty  plains  and 
bleak  mountains  around  which  the  storms,  unbroken 
by  forests,  shrieked  in  the  "straight  winds"  of 
many  days,  or  whined  the  threat  of  the  deadly  tor- 
nado. And  suddenly  it  became  a  land  of  high  noon, 
garish  and  crude,  but  wide-awake  and  striving  with 
all  the  tireless  energy  of  young  blood. 

Scarcely  had  the  Oklahoma  country  been  taken 
possession  of  before  the  settlers  began  agitating  the 
question  of  an  organized  territory,  and  too  impa- 
tient to  wait  for  Congress  to  act,  held  their  own  con- 
vention at  Guthrie  and  divided  the  land  into  counties. 
Congress  made  them  wait  five  months  —  an  age  in 
the  new  country  —  before  approving  the  Organic 
Act.  The  district,  which  a  short  time  before  had 


212  LAHOMA 

been  the  Unassigned  Lands,  became  the  counties  of 
Logan,  Oklahoma,  Cleveland,  Canadian,  Kingfisher 
and  Payne.  To  these  was  added  Beaver  County 
which  in  Brick  Willock's  day  had  been  called  "  No- 
Man's  Land/'  and  which  the  law-abiding  citizens, 
uniting  against  bandits  and  highwaymen,  had  sought 
to  organize  as  Cimmaron  Territory. 

Then  came  the  rivalry  between  Guthrie  and  Okla- 
homa City  for  the  capital,  adding  picturesqueness 
to  territorial  history,  and  offering  incitement  to 
many  a  small  village  to  make  itself  the  county-seat 
of  its  county.  The  growth  of  the  new  country  ad- 
vanced by  leaps  and  bounds.  In  1891,  the  868,- 
414  acres  of  the  surplus  lands  of  the  Iowa,  Sac, 
Fox  and  the  Pottawatomie-Shawnee  reservations 
formed  the  new  counties  of  Lincoln  and  Pottawa- 
tomie  and  increased  the  extent  of  some  of  the  old 
ones.  The  next  year,  3,500,562  acres  belonging 
to  the  Cheyenne  and  Arapaho  Indians  were  taken 
to  increase  several  of  the  older  counties,  and  to 
from  the  new  ones  of  honest  old  American  names  — 
Elaine,  Custer,  Washita,  Dewey,  Roger  Mills,  Beck- 
ham  and  Ellis.  In  the  year  following,  the  Chero- 
kee strip  was  opened  for  a  settlement  together  with 
the  surplus  lands  of  the  Pawnee  and  Tonhawa  — 
5,698,140  acres;  besides  increasing  other  counties, 


THE  DAY  OF  FENCES  213 

this  land  furnished  forth  the  new  counties  of  Al- 
falfa, Garfield,  Grant,  Harper,  Major,  Woods, 
Woodward,  Pawnee,  Kay  and  Noble.  At  the  time 
of  Wilfred's  visit  to  Brick  Willock,  the  winter  of 
1894-5,  the  opening  of  the  Kickapoo  reservation 
was  already  a  near  certainty;  while  the  vast  extent 
of  Greer  County  itself,  so  long  in  dispute  between 
Texas  and  the  United  States,  would  in  all  likelihood 
be  added  to  the  swelling  territory  of  Oklahoma. 

The  territory,  so  young  but  so  dauntless,  was  al- 
ready agitating  the  question  of  statehood  —  not 
only  so,  but  of  single  statehood,  meaning  thereby 
the  prospective  engulfment  and  assimilation  of  In- 
dian Territory,  that  all  the  land  from  Texas  to 
Kansas,  Missouri  and  Arkansas  might  be  called  by 
the  one  name  —  Oklahoma ;  a  name  to  stand  for- 
ever as  a  symbol  of  the  marvelously  swift  and  per- 
manent growth  of  a  white  people,  in  spite  of  its 
Choctaw  significance  — "  Red  People." 

Although  Wilfred  had  stayed  close  to  his  farm, 
near  Oklahoma  City,  he  had  kept  alive  to  the  rush 
and  swing  of  the  western  life;  and  now  that  he 
had  leisure  to  ride  with  Mizzoo  among  the  bustling 
camps,  and  view  the  giant  strides  made  from  day 
to  day  by  the  smallest  towns,  he  was  more  than 
ever  filled  with  the  exultation  of  one  who  takes 


214  LAHOMA 

part  in  world-movements.  He  began  to  view  the 
hurrying  crowds  that  overran  the  sidewalks,  with 
a  sense  of  close  kinship  —  these  people  came  from 
all  points  of  the  Union',  but  they  were  his  people.  A 
year  ago,  six  months  ago,  they  might  have  been 
New  Yorkers,  Calif ornians,  Oregonians,  but  now 
all  were  westerners  like  himself,  and  though  they 
believed  themselves  Texans  the  name  made  as  lit- 
tle difference  as  that  between  "  Red  River "  and 
"  Prairie  Dog  Fork  " —  in  spirit,  they  were  Okla- 
homans. 

If  Wilfred  had  not  been  a  simple  visitor,  he 
would  have  had  no  time  for  thought;  but  now  he 
could  look  on  the  life  of  which  he  had  for  a  few 
years  been  a  part,  and  study  it  as  related  to  the 
future.  It  was  as  if  his  boyhood  and  youth  had 
not  been  passed  in  Chicago  —  the  West  had  blotted 
out  the  past  as  it  ever  does  with  relentless  hand, — 
and  every  thought-channel  led  toward  the  light  of 
the  future.  Lahoma's  letter  had  revived  the  pic- 
ture of  other  days,  of  another  existence,  without! 
rousing  one  wish  to  return. 

The  only  'desire  it  had  stirred  in  his  breast  was 
that  of  seeing  Lahoma  again,  of  taking  her  by  the 
hand  to  lead  her,  not  back  to  the  old  civilization, 
but  to  the  new.  As  he  lay  awake  at  night  in  the 


THE  DAY  OF  FENCES 
i 
log  cabin  that  had  been  Lahoma's,  his  brain  for  a 

long  time  every  night  was  busy  with  thoughts  of 
that  new  civilization,  and  he  was  stirred  with  am- 
bition to  take  part,  so  that  when  single  statehood 
or  double  statehood  was  achieved,  he  would  be  a 
recognized  factor  in  its  transformation  from  a 
loosely-bound  territory. 

He  began  to  think,  too,  of  moving  his  residence 
to  Oklahoma  City,  where  he  would  be  closer  to  men 
of  affairs  —  great  men  of  great  enterprises.  Hisi 
farm,  of  course,  would  be  managed  under  his  super- 
intendence—  unless  Oklahoma  City  should  be  gen- 
erous enough  to  spread  out  and  surround  it,  and  lap 
it  up,  town-lot  after  town-lot,  till  not  a  red  clod 
was  left  .  .  .  And  if  a  girl  like  Lahoma  —  for 
surely  she  had  not  changed !  —  if  she,  little  Lahoma 
.  .  .  And  the  longing  grew  on  him  to  see  Annabel 
Sellimer  and  Lahoma  together,  that  he  might  study 
the  girl  he  had  once  loved  with  the  girl  he  might 
love  to-morrow.  He  almost  made  up  his  mind  to 
take  a  brief  trip  to  Chicago,  on  quitting  the  cove; 
perhaps  there  would  be  something  in  Lahoma's  next 
letter  to  force  a  decision. 

Two  weeks  passed,  but  Wilfred  did  not  consider 
the  time  lost;  there  were  letters  almost  daily,  by 
coach,  from  Lahoma,  telling  of  her  adventures  in 


2i  6  LAHOMA 

the  great  world  —  the  house-party  had  been  delayed 
on  account  of  Mrs.  Sellimer's  illness,  but  was  to  take 
place  immediately — so  said  the  last  letter  before 
the  arrival  of  the  news  that  changed  the  course 
of  events  at  the  cove.  As  yet,  Lahoma  had  not  met 
Mr.  Gledware,  but  the  fame  of  his  riches  and  his 
luxurious  home  had  both  increased  her  curiosity  to 
see  him,  and  her  conviction  that  Mr.  Edgerton 
Compton  stood  no  chance  with  Annabel.  She  had 
discovered,  too,  that  Edgerton  Compton  was  a 
brother  of  the  Wilfred  Compton  who  had  visited 
them  one  day  in  the  cove  —  Wilfred,  read  the  letter 
with  great  attention,  but  there  was  no  further  refer- 
ence to  himself. 

Brick  Willock  rode  over  to  Mangum  nearly  every 
afternoon  to  hear  from  Lahoma,  but  it  happened 
that  on  the  day  of  the  great  news,  neither  he  nor 
Bill  had  returned  from  a  certain  hunting  expedition 
in  time  for  the  stage,  so  Wilfred  went  for  the 
mail.  There  was  only  one  letter,  addressed  to 
"Mr.  B.  Willock,"  and  it  seemed  strangely  thin. 
The  young  man  wondered  during  all  his  ten-mile 
return-trip  if  Lahoma  had  fallen  ill;  and  after 
reaching  the  log  cabin,  he  kept  looking  at  the  slim 
missive,  and  turning  it  over,  with  vague  uneasiness. 

Brick  and  Bill  had  ridden  far,  and  it  was  dusk 


THE  DAY  OF  FENCES  217, 

before  they  reached  home  with  a  deer  slung  over 
one  of  the  horses. 

"  They're  getting  scarcer  every  year,"  complained 
Bill,  as  he  climbed  stiffly  to  the  ground;  "I  guess 
they'll  finally  go  the  way  of  the  buffalo." 

"Get  a  letter?"  asked  Brick,  hurrying  forward. 
"  H!uh!  That  it?  She  is  sure  getting  fashionable! 
I  reckon  when  she's  plumb  civilized,  she  won't  write 
nothing ! " 

He  took  the  long  white  envelope  and  squinted  at 
it  inquisitively. 

"Well,  why  don't  you  open  'er?"  snapped  Bill. 
"  Afraid  you'll  spring  a  trap  and  get  caught  ?  " 

"  Ain't  much  here,"  replied  Brick  slowly,  "  and 
I'm  making  it  last." 

"  Huh !  Nothing  is  a-lasting  when  it  hasn't  been 
begun,"  retorted  Bill  crossly.  "  See  what  the  little 
girl  says." 

"  I'm  afraid  she's  sick,"  observed  Wilfred,  eying 
the  envelope  with  something  like  Bill's  irritable  im- 
patience. 

Brick  tore  it  open,  and  found  within  another  en- 
velope, the  inner  one  of  yellow.  "  It's  a  telegraph," 
he  said  uneasily.  "  Lahoma  had  telegraphed  to  the 
end  of  the  wire,  and  at  Chickasha  they  puts  it  in 
the  white  wrapper  and  sends  it  on.  Do  you  see  ?  " 


218  LAHOMA 

"  I  don't  see  anything  yet,"  snapped  Bill.  "  Rig 
'er  open!" 

Brick  looked  at  Bill  Atkins.  "  Better  set  down, 
Bill,"  he  remarked.  "  If  they's  any  kind  of  shock 
in  this,  you  ain't  got  no  nerve  to  stand  it."  He 
broke  open  the  yellow  envelope  and  stared  at  the 
message.  As  he  did  so,  the  hand  clutching  the 
telegram  hardened  to  a  giant  fist,  while  his  brow, 
wrinkled,  and  his  eyes  grew  dark  and  menacing. 
Wilfred  was  reminded  of  the  sinister  expression 
displayed  at  the  first  mention  by  Lahoma  of  Gled- 
ware's  name,  and  he  experienced  once  more  that 
surprised  feeling  of  not  being  nearly  so  well  ac- 
quainted with  him  as  he  had  supposed. 

After  a  dead  silence,  Willock  handed  the  telegram 
to  Bill,  who  wrinkled  his  brow  over  it  a  minute  or 
two  before  handing  it  to  Wilfred.  The  young  man 
read  it  hastily,  then  turned  to  Bill.  His  face  wore 
a  decidedly  puzzled  look. 

"  I  don't  understand,"  he  said. 

"Neither  do  I,"  returned  Bill  rather  blankly. 
"  I  guess  if  there  is  to  be  any  setting  down,  it's 
Brick  that  needs  a  chair." 

The  telegram  was  as  follows : 

"The  second  you  get  this,  hide  for  your  life. 


THE  DAY  OF  FENCES  219 

Red  Kimball  says  he  can  prove  everything.     iWill 
explain  in  letter. 

"  :LAHOMA." 

"  Don't  say  nothing  to  me  for  a  spell,"  growled 
Brick,  thrusting  his  hands  deep  into  his  pockets. 
"  I've  got  to  think  mighty  quick."  He  strode  to- 
ward the  dugout,  leaving  Wilfred  and  Bill  staring 
at  each  other,  speechless. 

In  a  short  time,  Willock  reappeared,  bringing  from 
the  dugout  his  favorite  gun.  "  Come  along,"  he 
bade  them  briefly.  When  he  had  ascended  the 
rounded  swell  of  Turtle  Hill,  he  stretched  himself 
between  two  wide  flat  rocks  and  lay  with  his  face 
and  gun  directed  toward  the  opening  of  the  cove. 

"  Now,  Bill,"  he  said  sharply,  "  if  you  will  just 
set  facing  me  with  your  eye  on  the  north  wall,  so 
you  can  tell  if  anybody  tries  to  sneak  over  the 
mountain-top,  I'll  make  matters  clear.  Wilfred, 
you  can  go  or  stay,  free  as  air,  only  if  you  stay,  I 
can't  promise  but  you  may  see  a  man  killed  —  me, 
or  Red  Kimball,  I  don't  know  which,  though 
naturally  I  has  my  preference,"  he  added,  his  harsri 
voice  suddenly  changing  to  the  accent  of  comrade- 
ship. "As  to  Bill,  he  ain't  got  no  choice.  He 
come  and  put  up  with  me  and  Lahoma  when  nobody 


220  LAHOMA 

didn't  want  him,  and  now,  in  time  of  danger,  I  'low 
to  get  all  the  help  out  of  him  that's  there  in  spite 
of  a  begrudging  disposition  and  the  ravages  of 
time." 

"  What  I  want  to  know  is  this,"  Bill  interrupted : 
"  Who  and  what  is  this  Red  Kimball  ?  And  if  you 
have  to  hide  from  him,  why  ain't  you  doing  it  ?  " 

"I  puts  it  this  way,  Bill:  that  the  telegram 
traveled  faster  than  old  Red  could,  so  no  need  to 
hide  till  to-night,  though  when  you  deals  with  Red, 
it  behooves  you  to  have  your  gun  ready  against 
chances.  You  want  to  know  about  Red  Kimball? 
But  I  think  I'd  best  wait  till  Lahoma's  letter  comes, 
so  my  story  can  tally  with  hers.  I  got  my  reasons 
for  not  wanting  to  tell  all  about  Red  Kimball  which 
I  reckon  he  wouldn't  be  grateful  for,  but  that's  for 
him  to  say.  So  I  'lows  to  tell  only  as  much  as  I 
has  to  tell,  that  depending  on  what  Lahoma  has 
picked  up,  according." 

"  I  suppose  you've  met  him  face  to  face  ? " 
growled  Bill. 

"  They  don't  seem  to  be  no  harm  in  that  question, 
Bill,  but  you  never  knows  where  a  first  question  is 
leading  you.  If  I  refuses  to  answer  what  seems 
fair  and  square,  no  suspicions  is  roused  when  I 
refuses  to  answer  what  might  sound  dark  and  shady. 


THE  DAY,  OE  FENCES  221 

So  I  banks  myself  against  my  general  resolution  to 
say  nothing  beyond  Lahoma's  word." 

"  Hjer  word  says  he  can  prove  everything.  What 
is  '  everything '  ?  " 

"  That's  what  we'll  learn  from  her  letter.  We'll 
just  watch  him  do  his  proving! " 

"  And  her  word  says  to  hide  this  minute." 

"  I  don't  do  my  hiding  in  daylight,  but  when  it's 
good  and  dark,  I'm  going  to  put  out.  I  would  tell 
you  the  hiding-place,  for  I  trusts  you  both  —  but  if 
you  knowed  where  it  was,  and  if  officers  of  the  law: 
come  to  you  for  information,  you'd  be  in  a  box; 
I  know  you  wouldn't  give  me  up,  but  neither  would 
you  swear  to  a  lie.  Not  knowing  where  I  hides, 
your  consciences  are  as  free  as  mine  that  hasn't  never 
been  bridled." 

Wilfred  asked,  "  'But  when  Lahoma  writes,  how 
will  you  get  her  letter?  " 

"You  or  Bill  will  go  for  the  mail.  If  a  letter 
comes,  you'll  take  it  to  that  crevice  into  which  Miss 
Sellimer  was  drug  by  that  big  Injun,  and  you'll 
wait  in  there  till  I  comes,  not  opening  that  letter 
till  I  am  with  you.  We'll  read  it  together,  down  in 
the  hollow  where  poor  Miss  Sellimer's  life  was 
saved  by  Lahoma ;  then  you  two  will  go  back  to  the 
cove,  and  leave  me  to  sneak  away  to  my  hiding- 


222  LAHOMA 

place  which  may  be  near  and  may  be  far.  When 
you  get  a  letter,  bring  your  ladder  and  the  lantern, 
and  be  sure  nobody  is  watching  you  —  because  if 
you  let  Red  Kimball  or  any  of  his  gang  follow  you 
to  that  hiding-place,  you'd  have  to  see  a  man  killed 
—  and  such  as  that  ain't  no  sight  for  eyes  as  civil- 
ized as  Wilfred's,  or  as  old  as  Bill's." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  ONYX  PIN 

WHEN  the  next  letter  came  from  Lahoma, 
Wilfred  Compton  and  Bill  Atkins  hurried  to 
the  crevice  in  the  mountain-top  according  to  agree- 
ment. It  was  a  cloudless  afternoon,  but  at  the 
farther  end  of  the  retreat  the  light  of  the  lantern 
was  necessary  for  its  perusal.  Brick  Willock,  who 
was  there  before  them,  read  the  letter  in  silence  be- 
fore handing  it  to  the  young  man  to  read  aloud. 

"  It's  just  addressed  to  me,  this  time/*  he  re- 
marked grimly,  in  explanation  of  his  proprietary 
act;  "  they  ain't  no  foolishness  of  '  Dear  Brick  and 
Bill.'  But  I  treats  you  as  friends  should  be  treated, 
and  lays  before  you  everything  Lahoma  has  found 
out.  For  Brick  Willock,  he  says  '  Friends  is  better 
friends  when  they  don't  know  all  about  each  other/ 
says  he ;  and  I  tells  you  only  what  Lahoma  has  been 
told,  according." 

Wilfred  took  the  letter,  tingling  with  excitement. 
The  strained  watching  and  waiting  for  the  sudden 

appearance  of  an  unknown  Red  Kimball  had  made 

223 


224  LAHOMA 

his  bed  in  the  cabin  as  sleepless  as  had  been  Bill's 
pallet  in  the  dugout.  They  squatted  about  the  lan- 
tern that  rested  on  the  stone  floor,  Willock  always 
with  eyes  directed  toward  the  narrow  slit  in  the 
ceiling  that  they  might  not  be  taken  by  surprise. 

The  long  natural  corridor  was  bare,  except  for 
the  old  Spanish  sword  hanging  upon  the  wall.  A 
stout  cedar  post,  firmly  fixed  in  the  extremity  of 
the  walls,  formed  a  rude  barricade  against  the  abyss 
of  unknown  depth  that  yawned  a  few  yards  away 
from  where  they  sat.  This  railing  and  the  sword 
were  the  only  evidences  of  man's  possession,  save 
for  the  ladder  that  would  presently  be  carried  back 
to  the  cove.  No  inquiries  were  made  as  to  how 
Brick  came  and  went,  where  he  found  food  and  a 
bed,  or  how  he  happened  to  be  present  at  the  pre- 
cise moment  of  the  arrival  of  the  bearers  of  news. 

"  Dear  Brick,"  Lahoma  began :  "By  this  time 
you  have  hidden  where  nobody  can  find  you,  for 
you've  got  my  telegram  and  you  know  I  wouldn't 
have  sent  it  if  it  hadn't  been  necessary.  You  be- 
lieve in  me,  and,  as  you  would  say, —  how  I'd  love 
to  hear  you!  —  you  act  'according/  Well,  and  I 
believe  in  you,  Brick,  and  you  needn't  imagine  as 
long  as  you  live  that  anybody  could  make  me  think 
you  anything  but  what  I  know  you  to  be,  the  kindest, 


"Dear  Brick,"  Lahotna' 


•  •   .«  • 

•  «•••> 

•  •„•  •  • 


THE  ONYX  PIN  225 

most  tender-hearted,  most  thoughtful  man  that  ever 
lived.  Get  that  fixed  in  your  mind  so  when  I  tell 
what  they  say  about  you,  you  won't  care,  knowing 
I'm  with  you  and  will  believe  in  you  till  death. 

"  I'm  going  to  skip  everything  except  the  part 
about  you,  for  this  letter  goes  by  next  mail. 
There's  ever  and  ever  so  many  other  things  I'd  love 
to  tell  you,  and  I  don't  see  how  I  can  wait,  but  I'm 
going  to  find  out,  for  wait  I  must.  Maybe  I  ought 
to  begin  with  Mr.  Gledware  so  you'll  know  more 
about  him  when  I  begin  on  the  main  news. 

:t  We  are  at  his  house  now  and  the  house-party  is 
in  full  swing.  Mr.  Gledware  is  pressing  his  suit  to 
Annabel  with  all  his  might,  and  her  mother  is  help- 
ing him.  Nothing  stands  in  the  way  —  for  she 
wants  to  marry  him  —  except  her  love  for  Mr. 
Edgerton  Compton.  She  told  me  all  about  her  old 
romance  with  Wilfred  —  you  remember  him,  I 
guess?  She  got  to  liking  Edgerton  after  Wilfred 
went  away  because  he  looked  so  much  like  Wilfred. 
Maybe  he  does,  but  he  isn't  the  same  kind  of  man. 
Mr.  Edgerton  has  spent  all  his  money  on  fixing  up 
the  outside  of  the  house,  but  Wilfred  has  spent  his 
on  the  furnishings.  Well!  If  Annabel  could 
change  her  heart  from  one  brother  to  the  other  just 
because  Edgerton  reminded  her  of  Wilfred,  I  guess 


226  LAHOMA 

she  won't  have  a  very  hard  time  making  another 
transfer,  especially  as  Mr.  Gledware  is  traveling  her 
way.  When  I  love  anybody,  my  love  is  the  part  of 
me  that  comes  alive  whenever  that  person  is  present, 
or  is  mentioned.  So  how  could  I  slide  it  from  one 
man  to  another,  any  more  than  the  man  himself 
could  change  to  another  man?  And  that's  the  way 
I  love  you,  Brick,  and  not  all  the  wealth  or  fame  or 
good  looks  in  the  world  (and  you  have  neither) 
could  get  my  heart  away  from  you! 

"  Or  from  Bill. 

"  The  first  time  I  met  Mr.  Gledware,  he  acted  in 
a  curious  way.  Of  course  I  was  introduced  as 
*  Miss  Willock '  and  he  started  at  the  name,  and  at 
sight  of  me  —  two  separate  little  movements  just 
as  plain  as  anything.  Then  he  said  he  had  heard 
the  name  'Willock'  in  unusual  surroundings,  and 
that  my  face  reminded  him  of  somebody  who  was 
dead.  That  was  all  there  was  to  it,  then.  But 
afterward  he  heard  Annabel  call  me  '  Lahoma,'  and 
his  face  turned  perfectly  white. 

"  The  first  chance  he  had,  after  that,  he  sat  down 
to  talk  to  me  in  a  corner  where  we  wouldn't  be 
overhead,  and  he  asked  me  questions.  So,  of 
course,  I  told  about  father  and  mother  taking  me 
across  the  prairie  to  the  Oklahoma  country,  and  how 


THE  ONYX  PIN  227 

mother  died  and  father  was  killed,  and  I  was  with 
the  Indians  a  while  and  then  was  taken  to  live  with 
my  cousin,  Brick.  He  listened  with  his  head  down, 
never  meeting  my  eye,  and  when  I  had  finished  all 
he  said  was,  '  Did  you  ever  hear  my  name  before?  ' 

"  And  I  said  I  never  had.  Then  he  asked  if  I 
thought  I  had  ever  seen  him,  for  he  thought  he 
could  remember  having  seem  me  somewhere.  And 
I  said  I  wasn't  sure,  I  had  met  so  many  people, 
and  there  was  something  familiar  about  him. 
Then  he  said  he  guessed  we  hadn't  ever  met  unless 
accidentally  on  the  trail  somewhere,  as  he  had  once 
been  down  in  Texas, —  and  that  was  all. 

"  I  don't  like  Mr.  Gledware's  eye  because  it  al- 
ways looks  away  from  you.  He  would  be  consid- 
ered a  handsome  man  by  anybody  not  particular 
about  eyes.  Afterward,  I  heard  about  his  trip  to 
Texas.  Annabel  and  her  mother  were  talking 
about  Mr.  Gledware's  past.  It  seems  that  once 
Mr.  Gledware  and  his  first  wife  (I  say  his  -first  be- 
cause I  look  upon  Annabel  as  certain  to  be  the 
second)  joined  the  Oklahoma  boomers  and  they 
were  attacked  by  Indians,  just  as  my  father  and 
mother  were,  and  they  had  with  them  his  wife's 
little  girl,  for  he  had  married  a  widow,  just  as  my 
father  had  (my  stepfather)  and  there  was  a  terrible 


228  LAHOMA 

battle.  And  Mr.  Gledware,  oh,  he  was  so  brave! 
He  killed  ten  Indians  after  the  rest  of  his  party, 
including  his  wife  and  daughter,  had  been  slain,  and 
he  broke  through  the  attacking  party  and  escaped 
on  a  horse  —  the  only  one  that  got  away. 

"  He  doesn't  look  that  brave.  Later,  I  asked 
him  if  it  could  be  possible  that  he  was  with  the 
wagon-train  we  were  in,  but  he  said  there  wasn't 
any  Mr.  or  Mrs.  Willock  in  his  party,  and  no  little 
girl  named  Lahoma  Willock.  But  he's  been  through 
what  my  father  went  through,  and  it  made  me  feel 
kinder  to  him,  somehow. 

"  But  his  eye  is  bad.  Maybe  it  got  in  the  habit 
of  shifting  about  looking  for  Indians  in  the  sage- 
brush. Sometimes  he  seems  still  to  be  looking  for 
Indians.  Well,  I  see  where's  he's  right  there,  and 
I'm  going  to  tell  you  why,  which  brings  me  to  the 
biggest  news  yet. 

"  Now  I've  come  to  the  day  when  I  sent  you  the 
telegram,  and  why  I  sent  it,  so  be  prepared !  There 
was  to  be  a  big  picnic,  to-day,  near  a  town  called 
Independence,  and,  as  it  happened,  I  didn't  feel 
like  going,  so  begged  off  —  let  me  tell  you  why: 
I  began  a  novel,  last  night,  full  of  bright  conversa-^ 
tion,  the  pages  all  broken  up  in  little  scraps  of  print 
that  hurry  you  along  as  if  building  steps  for  you  to 


THE  ONYX  PIN  229 

run  down  —  it  was  ever  and  ever  more  interesting 
than  real  people  can  be.  It  was  a  story  about  a 
house-party  and  the  writer  just  made  them  talk  to 
suit  himself  and  not  to  suit  their  dulness  as  a  real 
house-party  must,  you  know.  So  I  stayed  to  finish 
that  book.  Oh,  of  course  if  I  had  had  a  lover  to 
be  with!  But  that's  something  I'll  never  have,  I 
suppose;  but  I  don't  complain,  Brick,  for  you've 
given  me  everything  else  I  ever  wanted. 

"  The  reason  I  would  like  to  have  a  lover  is  as 
follows:  So  I  would  understand  the  experience  of 
being  regarded  that  way.  It  would  be  like  plowing 
up  the  sage-brush  to  plant  kafir-corn  and  millo- 
maize,  because  until  such  time,  there  is  bound  to  be 
a  part  of  my  nature  un worked. 

"  Now,  there  is  a  nook  in  Mr.  Gledware's  library, 
a  sort  of  alcove  where  you  have  a  window  all  to 
yourself  but  are  shut  off  from  the  rest  of  the  room, 
and  that  is  where  I  was  when  two  men  came  in  softly 
and  closed  and  locked  the  door  behind  them.  I 
couldn't  see  them  but  just  as  I  was  starting  up  to 
find  out  what  it  meant,  one  of  them  —  it  was  Mr. 
Gledware,  which  surprised  me  greatly  as  he  had 
gone  with  the  rest  to  the  picnic  —  spoke  your  name, 
Brick.  As  soon  as  I  heard  that  name,  and  particu- 
larly on  account  of  the  way  he  spoke  it,  I  determined 


LAHOMA 

to  '  lay  low '  and  scout  out  the  trouble.  So  I  just 
drew  up  as  small  as  possible  in  my  chair,  as  you 
;would  slip  along  through  the  high  grass  if  Indians 
were  near,  and  I  listened.  Maybe  if  I  had  finished 
my  civilization  I  would  have  been  obliged  to  let 
them  know  I  was  there;  but  fortunately,  I  haven't 
reached  the  limit,  yet. 

"  The  other  man,  I  soon  found,  was  Red  Kimball  ; 
they  had  about  finished  their  conversation  before 
coming  into  the  room,  so  the  first  part  was  lost. 
Mr.  Gledware  had  come  for  his  check-book,  and  the 
check  was  for  Red  Kimball.  Red  Kimball  used  to 
be  the  leader  of  a  band  of  highwaymen  up  in  Cimar- 
ron,  when  it  was  No-Man's  Land;  it  was  his  band 
that  attacked  the  wagon-train  when  Mr.  Gledware 
acted  the  hero  —  only,  as  they  were  disguised  as 
Indians,  Mr.  Gledware  didn't  know  they  were  such 
till  later.  He  came  on  them,  afterward,  without 
their  disguises,  and  they  would  have  killed  him  if 
you,  Brick,  hadn't  knocked  'down  Red,  and  shot  his 
brother!  So,  as  I  listened,  I  found  out  that  Mr. 
Gledware  wasn't  the  hero  he  claimed  to  be,  but  was 
the  man  yow  saved;  and  he  is  my  stepfather;  and  I 
was  carried  away  by  him,  and  taken  'from  him  by  the 
Indians ;  but  he  wasn't  killed  at  all.  And  my  name, 
I  suppose  is  Lahoma  Gledware,  at  least  not  as  Red 


THE  ONYX  PIN  231 

Feather  had  taught  me,  "  Lahoma  Willock/'  And 
I  am  no  kin  to  you,  at  all,  Brick,  you  just  took  me  in 
and  cared  for  me  because  you  are  Brick  Willock, 
the  dearest  tenderest  friend  a  little  girl  ever  had  — 
and  these  lines  are  crooked  because  there  are  tears 
—  because  you  are  not  my  cousin. 

"  I'd  rather  be  kin  to  you  than  married  to  a 
prince. 

"  Red  Kimball  says  you  were  one  of  his  gang  of 
highwaymen  but  I  know  it  isn't  true,  so  you  don't 
have  to  say  a  word.  But  he  is  determined  to  be 
revenged  on  you  for  killing  his  brother.  And  the 
reason  he's  waited  this  long  is  because  he  didn't 
know  where  you  were  —  good  reason,  isn't  it  ? 
Tell  you  how  he  found  out  —  it  all  comes  from  my 
getting  civilized !  He's  a  porter  at  our  Kansas  City 
hotel.  So  when  he  heard  the  men  talking  about 
how  I  had  once  been  kidnaped  by  the  Indians,  and 
wrote  nearly  every  day  to  my  cousin  Brick  Willock, 
which  they  thought  an  odd  name  —  he  guessed  the 
rest. 

"  It  makes  my  blood  turn  cold  to  think  that  all  the 
time  we  were  living  quietly  and  happily  in  the  cove, 
that  awful  Red  Kimball  was  hunting  for  you,  mean- 
ing to  have  your  life  —  and  in  a  way  that  I'm 
ashamed  to  write,  but  must,  so  you'll  know  every- 


232  LAHOMA 

thing.  He  means  to  have  you  arrested  and  tried 
for  his  brother's  murder  —  and  he  says  he  can  hang 
you! 

"  And  Mr.  Gledware  is  his  witness.  That's  why 
Red  has  come  after  him.  You'll  think  it  strange 
that  after  his  gang  were  about  to  kill  Mr.  Gledware 
in  the  prairie,  that  he  should  come  to  ask  him  to 
act  as  witness  against  another  man.  That's  what 
Mr.  Gledware  told  him.  But  Red  Kimball  an- 
swered that  it  was  all  a  bluff  —  they  had  never 
dreamed  of  shooting  him  or  his  little  girl. 

"  When  No-Man's  Land  was  added  to  Oklahoma, 
a  pardon  was  offered  to  Red  Kimball  and  all  his 
gang  if  they  would  come  in  and  lay  down  their 
arms  and  swear  to  keep  the  peace  —  you  see,  most 
of  their  crimes  had  been  committed  where  no  courts 
could  touch  them.  Well,  all  the  gang  came  in  — 
But  what  do  you  think  ?  That  terrible  Red  Kimball 
swears  that  you  were  one  of  his  gang,  and  that  as 
you  didn't  come  in  and  surrender  yourself,  the 
pardon  doesn't  apply  to  you!  It  was  all  I  could  do 
to  keep  from  stepping  right  out  and  telling  him  you 
were  one  of  the  most  peaceable  and  harmless  of  men 
and  that  you  just  happened  to  be  riding  about  when 
you  saw  Mr.  Gledware's  danger,  and  just  had  to 
shoot  Kansas  Kimball  to  save  me  and  my  stepfather. 


THE  ONYX  PIN  233 

You,  a  highwayman,  indeed !  I  could  laugh  at  that, 
if  it  didn't  make  me  too  mad  when  I  think  about  it. 

"  Then  Mr.  Gledware  talked.  He  said  maybe  it 
.was  a  bluff  against  him,  that  standing  him  up 
against  the  moon  to  be  shot  at,  but  it  wasn't  one  he 
was  apt  to  forget,  and  he  could  never  be  on  any 
kind  of  terms  with  Red;  besides,  he  said,  if  Brick 
Willock  hadn't  saved  his  life,  he'd  always  thought 
so,  so  wouldn't  witness  against  him  though  he  had 
no  doubt  he  belonged  to  Red's  gang.  But  that  was 
nothing  to  him.  And  he  couldn't  understand  how 
Red  could  have  the  face  to  come  to  him  about  any- 
thing, but  was  willing  to  pay  a  sum  to  keep  all  the 
past  hushed  up,  as  he  didn't  want  any  '  complica- 
tions '  from  being  claimed  as  a  stepfather  by  La- 
homa!  The  past  was  over,  he  said,  and  Lahoma 
had  a  home  of  her  own,  and  he  was  satisfied  to  be 
free  of  her  —  and  he  would  pay  Red  something 
to  keep  the  past  buried. 

"  Then  Red  spoke  pretty  ugly,  saying  it  wasn't 
the  past  he  was  anxious  to  have  buried,  but  Brick 
.Willock.  And  he  said  that  Mr.  Gledware  was  a 
witness  to  the  murder,  whether  he  wanted  to  be  or 
not,  and  Red  was  willing  to  confess  to  everything, 
in  order  to  have  Brick  hanged. 

"  Then  Mr.  Gledware,  in  a  cold  unmoved  voice, 


234  LAHOMA 

said  he  must  go  back  to  the  picnic  and  *  Mr.  Kim- 
ball  '  could  do  as  he  pleased. 

"  But  that  wasn't  the  end.  '  Do  you  know/  says 
'  Mr.  Kimball,'  '  that  Red  Feather  is  in  town,  laying 
for  you  ? '  he  says.  Mr.  Gledware  gave  a  dreadful 
kind  of  low  scream,  such  as  turned  me  sick  to  hear. 
It  reminded  me  of  the  cry  of  a  coyote  I  heard  once, 
caught  in  the  trap,  that  saw  Bill  coming  with  his 
knife.  The  room  was  as  still  as  death  for  a  little 
while.  I  guess  they  were  looking  at  each  other. 

"  At  last  Red  says,  pretty  slow  and  calm,  '  Would 
you  like  to  have  that  Indian  out  of  the  way?1 
Mr.  Gledware  didn't  answer,  at  least  not  anything 
I  could  hear,  but  his  eyes  must  have  spoken  for 
him,  for  Red  went  on  after  a  while  —  '  It's  a  go, 
then,  is  it?  Well,  that'll  take  time  —  but  in  a  few 
days  —  maybe  in  a  few  hours  —  I'll  deal  with  the 
chief.  And  I  want  your  word  that  after  that's  ac- 
complished, you'll  go  with  me  to  Greer  County  and 
stay  on  the  job  till  Brick  Willock  swings.' ' 

"There  was  a  longer  silence  than  before.  It 
lasted  so  long,  and  the  room  was  so  still,  that  after 
a  while  I  almost  imagined  that  they  were  gone,  or 
that  I  had  just  waked  up  from  a  dreadful  dream. 
My  nerves  all  clashed  in  the  strangest  way  —  like 
the  shivering  of  morning  ice  on  a  pool  —  when  Mr. 


THE  ONYX  PIN  235 

Gled ware's  voice  jarred  on  my  ears.    He  said,  '  How 
will  I  know  ?  ' 

"  '  Well/  says  Red  Kimball  roughly,  '  how  would 
you  know  ? ' 

"There  was  another  of  those  awful  silences. 
Then  Mr.  Gledware  said,  *  When  you  bring  me  a 
pin  that  he  always  carries  about  him,  I'll  know  that 
Red  Feather  will  never  trouble  me  again.' 

"  Kirnball  spoke  rougher  than  before :  '  You 
mean  it'll  show  you  that  he's  a  dead  'un,  huh  ?  " 

'  I  mean  what  I  said,'  Mr.  Gledware  snapped, 
as  if  just  rousing  himself  from  a  kind  of  stupor. 

"Well,  what  kind  of  pin?'  That  was  Kim- 
ball's  question. 

"  Then  Mr.  Gledware  described  the  pin.  He  said 
it  was  a  smooth-faced  gold-rimmed  pin  of  onyx  set 
with  pearls.  And  Kimball  said  boastingly  that  he 
would  produce  that  pin,  as  he  was  a  living  man. 
And  Mr.  Gledware  told  him  if  he  did,  he'd  go  to 
witness  against  Brick  Willock.  So  both  left  the 
room,  and  pretty  soon,  from  the  window,  I  saw 
them  going  away  on  horseback,  in  opposite 
directions. 

"  I  mustn't  hold  back  this  letter  to  add  any  more, 
it  must  get  off  by  the  mail  that's  nearly  due.  The 
moment  I  learn  anything  new  I'll  write  again.  Of 


236  LAHOMA 

course  I  know  you're  no  more  a  highwayman  than 
myself,  but  since  it's  true  that  you  did  shoot  Red's 
brother,  and  since  he  evidently  died  of  the  wound, 
I  suppose  Red  could  cause  you  a  great  deal  of 
trouble.  Ybu  could  swear  that  if  you  hadn't  killed 
Kansas  Kimball,  he  would  have  killed  my  step- 
father ;  and  that  they  had  ordered  you  to  kill  me,  in 
my  sleep.  The  trouble  is  that  Mr.  Gledware  seems 
to  be  in  terror  about  Red  Feather,  and  if  Kimball 
gets  him  rid  of  the  Indian,  I'm  not  sure  that  Mr. 
Gledware  would  tell  the  whole  truth.  It  might  be 
the  word  of  those  two  against  yours.  It's  certain 
that  if  they  tried  you  and  failed  to  convict,  Kimball 
would  try  a  knife  or  a  gun  as  the  next  best  way  of 
getting  even. 

"  My  poor  dear  Brick,  it  seems  that  there's  long 
trouble  before  you,  but  the  consciousness  of  in- 
nocence will  uphold  you,  and  just  as  soon  as  I  do 
all  I  can  at  this  end  of  the  trail,  by  acting  as  your 
faithful  scout,  I'll  come  out  in  the  open  in  my  war 
clothes  with  my  belt  well-lined  with  weapons,  and 
we'll  defy  the  world.  In  the  meantime  —  better 
keep  hid!  Good-by.  Think  of  me  when  the  wild 
winds  blow. 

"Your  little  girl, 

"LAHOMA. 


THE  ONYX  PIN  237; 


"  P.  S.     Tell  Bill  he  can  still  claim  his  share. 

"  P.  P.  S.  Got  Bill's  note  of  a  few  lines,  read  it 
with  the  greatest  joy  in  the  world,  and  guessed  at 
the  news.  He  says  Wilfred  Compton  is  there. 
What  for? 

"L." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

BRICK  MAKES  A  STAND 

AS  soon  as  Wilfred  had  finished  the  letter,  not 
without  a  wry  smile  over  the  query  concern- 
ing himself,  Bill  Atkins  exclaimed : 

"  Then!  Ho !  And  so  she's  no  more  kin  to  you, 
Brick,  than  to  me;  and  her  name's  no  more  Willock 
than  Atkins  —  and  being  but  a  stepdaughter  to  old 
Sneak,  neither  is  it  Gledware.  Yet  you  have  ever- 
lastingly had  your  own  say  about  Lahoma,  from 
claiming  to  be  a  cousin !  I  want  you  to  know  from 
this  on  that  I  claim  as  big  a  share  in  Lahoma  as 
anybody  else  on  this  green  and  living  earth." 

Wilfred  looked  up,  expecting  Brick  to  consent 
to  this  on  the  ground  that  in  all  likelihood  Bill's 
claim  would  last  but  a  few  years,  anyway.  It 
seemed  too  good  an  opening  for  Brick  to  lose;  but 
instead  of  refreshing  himself  with  his  customary 
gibe,  the  huge  fellow  sat  dark  and  glowering,  his 
eyes  staring  upward  at  the  crevice  in  the  rock  roof, 
the  lantern-light  showing  his  forehead  deeply  rutted 

in  a  threatening  scowl. 

238 


BRICK  MAKES  A  STAND  239 

"  Another  point  needs  clearing  up,"  Bill  said 
sharply.  "What  about  Red  Kimball's  charge? 
Did  you  belong  to  his  gang?  Are  you  a  highway- 
man?" 

Brick  waved  impatiently  toward  the  letter  that 
still  gleamed  in  the  young  man's  hand.  "  We  goes 
on  documentary  evidence,"  he  said.  "  I  takes  a  bold 
and  open  stand  on  the  general  plea  of  '  Not  guilty ' 
to  nothing.  That's  technical,  and  it's  arbitrary. 
Should  you  be  asked  had  I  ever  expressed  an  opinion 
as  to  being  a  highwayman,  or  a  lowwayman,  you 
can  report  me  as  saying  '  Not  guilty/  according." 

"  Brick,"  interposed  Wilfred,  returning  him  the 
letter,  "you're  making  a  mistake  not  to  trust  us 
with  the  whole  truth.  If  you  wait  for  Lahoma's 
letters  and  only  admit  what  she  discovers,  Bill  and 
I  can't  form  any  plan  of  protecting  you.  While 
her  information  is  coming,  bit  by  bit,  the  man  who 
wants  you  hanged  is  liable  to  show  up  — " 

"Let  'im  come!"  growled  Brick.  "He  can't 
get  no  closer  to  me  than  I'll  be  to  him.  I'm  not 
going  to  air  my  past  history.  What  Lahoma  finds 
out,  I  admits  frank  and  open;  otherwise  I  stands 
firm  as  not  guilty,  being  on  safe  ground,  technical 
and  arbitrary." 

"  But  if  Red  Kimball  brings  the  sheriff  —  it's  only 


24o  LAHOMA 

a  matter  of  time  —  your  plea  of  not  guilty  won't 
save  you  from  arrest.  And  he'll  have  any  number 
of  rascals  to  prove  what  he  pleases,  whether  it's 
the  truth  or  not.  If  Gledware  comes  as  a  witness, 
his  position  will  give  him  great  influence  against 
you  —  and  the  fact  that  he'd  testify  after  you'd 
saved  his  life,  would  make  a  pretty  hard  hit  with  the 
jury." 

"  Jury  nothing !  "  retorted  Brick.  "  This  case 
ain't  never  going  to  a  jury.  Such  things  is  settled 
man  to  man,  in  these  parts." 

"  But  as  surely  as  the  sheriff  serves  his  writ, 
you'll  be  landed  in  jail. ,  And  I  happen  to  know  the 
sheriff ;  he's  a  man  that  couldn't  be  turned  from  his 
duty  —  good  friend  of  mine,  too." 

"  Is,  eh?  Then  you'd  better  advise  with  him  for 
his  good." 

"  Think  of  Lahoma.  If  you  killed  a  man  — 
whether  the  sheriff,  or  this  Red  Kimball  —  Lahoma 
could  never  feel  toward  you  as  she  does  to-day." 

"And  how  would  she  feel  toward  me  if  I  was 
hanged,  uh?  I  guess  she'd  druther  I  laid  my  man 
low  than  that  I  swung  high."  Willock  started  up 
impatiently.  "We're  wasting  words,"  he  said, 
roughly.  "  There  is  but  the  two  alternatives :  I'm 
one  of  'em,  and  Red  Kimball  is  the  other.  It's 


BRICK  MAKES  A  STAND  241 

simply  a  question  of  which  gets  which.  I  tries  to 
make  it  plain,  for  there's  no  going  back.  Now  are 
you  with  me,  or  not?  If  not,  I'll  fight  it  out  along 
as  I  always  done  in  times  past  and  gone  —  and  be- 
dinged  to  'em!  I'm  sorry  my  young  days  was  as 
they  was,  and  for  Lahoma's  sake  I'd  cut  off  this 
right  arm—"  he  held  it  out,  rigidly—- "if  that'd 
change  the  past.  iBut  the  past  —  and  bedinged  to 
it !  —  can't  be  changed.  It's  there,  right  over  your 
shoulder,  out  of  reach.  This  mountain  might  as 
well  say,  '  I  don't  like  being1  a  big  chunk  of  granite 
where  all  the  rest  of  the  country  is  a  smooth  prairie ; 
I'm  sorry  I  erupted;  and  I  guess  I'll  go  back  into 
the  heart  of  the  earth  where  I  come  from.'  A 
mountain  that's  erupted  is  erupted  till  kingdom 
come,  and  a  man  that's  did  a  deed,  has  did  it  till 
the  stars  fall.  But  you  can  imagine  this  mountain 
saying,  with  some  sense,  too,  '  Now,  since  I  has 
erupted,  I'll  do  my  best  to  cover  my  nakedness  with 
pretty  cedars  for  to  stay  green  in  season  and  out  of 
season,  and  I'll  embroider  myself  with  flowers  and 
grasses,  and  send  little  mountain-streams  down  to 
make  soft  water  in  people's  wells  so  they  won't  all- 
time  be  fretting  because  I  takes  up  so  much  of  good 
plowing-land,'  says  the  mountain.  I  may  not  be  a 
mountain,  but  I've  got  a  good  top  to  me  which 


242  LAHOMA 

reasons  against  the  future  and  forgets  the  past.  I 
know  Red  Kimball  —  and  now  that  he's  learned 
where  I  live,  one  of  us  is  too  many,  considering  the 
hard  times.  I  mean  to  keep  hiding,  not  to  be  took 
by  surprise;  but  I  'lows  to  come  forth  one  of  these 
days  and  walk  about  free  and  disposed,  all  danger 
having  been  removed." 

"What  about  the  law?"  demanded  Bill.  "Do 
you  think  ifs  going  to  let  you  walk  about  free  and 
disposed,  after  you've  removed  Red  Kimball?" 

"  I  hopes  the  law  and  me  can  get  on  peaceable  to- 
gether," returned  the  other  grimly.  "  I've  never 
had  nothing  to  do  with  it,  and  I  hopes  to  be  let 
alone." 

Wilfred  spoke  with  sudden  decision :  "  Brick, 
I'm  with  you  to  the  end,  and  so  is  Bill.  I  have 
nothing  to  do  with  your  purposes  or  plans  except 
to  offer  the  best  advice  I  know  —  you've  rejected 
it,  but  I'm  with  you  just  the  same.  It  strikes  me 
I  can  help  you  by  going  to  Kansas  City  —  for  you 
need  only  Bill  in  the  cove, — he  can  bring  you  La- 
homa's  letters.  I'll  hurry  to  Lahoma;  and  if  she 
decides  to  come  back,  as  I'm  sure  she  will  very  soon 
• — •  well,  she'll  need  a  protector.  I'll  bring  her  home. 
She  asks  in  her  letter  what  I'm  here  for.  Wouldn't 
that  be  a  good  answer?  " 


BRICK  MAKES  A  STAND  243 

Brick  Willock  laid  his  hand  on  the  other's 
shoulder  and  stared  into  his  face  with  troubled 
eyes.  Gradually  his  countenance  cleared  and  some- 
thing of  his  old  geniality  returned.  "  A  first-class 
answer,  son!  I  believe  you'll  do  it."  He  grasped 
Wilfred's  hand.  "  These  are  troublous  times,  and 
it's  good  to  feel  a  hand  like  this  that's  steady  and 
true.  Now  I  ain't  going  to  drag  you  into  nothing 
that  could  hurt  you  nor  Bill,  or  make  you  feel  sore 
over  past  days.  I  don't  need  nobody  to  lean  on  — 
but  Lahoma  does;  and  if  Red  Kimball  pops  it  to  me 
before  I  get  a  chance  to  keel  him  over,  you  two 
must  look  out  for  her." 

"I'll  look  out  for  her  myself,  single-handed,"  said 
Bill  gruffly. 

"  I  know  you  would,  old  tap,  as  long  as  you  lasts," 
said  Willock  with  an  unwonted  note  of  gentleness. 
Bill  was  so  embarrassed  by  the  tone  that  he  cringed 
awkwardly.  After  a  pause,  Willock  suggested  that 
Wilfred  wait  for  one  more  letter  from  Lahoma,  pro- 
vided it  come  within  the  next  twenty-four  hours, 
then  start  up  the  trail  for  Chickasha  and  board  the 
train  for  Kansas.  "  She  might  write  something 
that  needed  instant  work,"  he  explained.  "  If  so, 
I'd  like  to  have  you  here.  I'm  looking  for  develop- 
ments in  her  next  letter." 


244  LAHOMA 

"Strange  to  me,"  muttered  Bill,  "about  Red 
Feather  and  that  sneaking  Gledware.  Wonder  how 
came  the  Indian  with  a  pin  on  him  that  Gledware 
knew  of?" 

Willock's  face  was  twisted  into  a  sardonic  grin. 
"  Guess  I  could  explain  that,  all  right  —  but  I  says 
nothing  beyond  Lahoma's  word.  I  banks  on  docu- 
ment'ry  proofs,  and  otherwise  stands  technical  and 
arbitrary." 

Hitherto  Wilfred,  as  guest  of  honor,  had  been 
offered  the  cabin  as  his  sleeping-quarters,  and  he 
had  accepted  it  because  of  the  countless  reminders 
of  Lahoma's  fresh  and  innocent  life;  but  this  night, 
he  shared  the  dugout  with  Bill,  from  a  sense  of  im- 
pending danger.  Until  a  late  hour  they  sat  over 
the  glowing  coals,  discussing  their  present  situation 
and  offering  conjectures  about  Willock's  younger 
days.  There  could  hardly  have  been  a  stronger 
contrast  between  the  emaciated  old  man  of  the  huge 
white  mustache,  thin  reddish  cheeks  and  shock  of 
white  hair,  and  the  broad-shouldered,  handsome  and 
erect  young  man  —  or  the  stern  and  gloomy  coun- 
tenance of  the  former,  and  the  expressive  eyes  and 
flexible  lips  of  Wilfred.  Yet  they  seemed  uncon- 
scious of  any  chasm  of  age  or  disposition  as  they 
spoke  in  low  tones,  not  without  frequent  glances 


BRICK  MAKES  A  STAND  245 

toward  the  barricaded  door  and  the  heavily  cur- 
tained window. 

The  wind  made  strange  noises  overhead  and  at 
times  one  could  be  almost  certain  there  was  the 
stamping  of  a  man's  foot  upon  the  earthen  roof. 
The  distant  cry  of  a  wild  beast,  and  the  nearer 
yelping  of  hungry  wolves  mingled  with  the  whistling 
of  the  wind.  Sometimes  Wilfred  rose  and,  passing 
noiselessly  to  the  window,  raised  the  curtain  with 
a  quick  gesture  to  stare  out  on  a  dark  and  stormy 
night;  and  once,  in  doing  so,  he -surprised  a  pair  of 
red  eyes  under  bristling  gray  hair  which  seemed  to 
glow  hot  as  molten  lead,  as  the  fire  from  the  open 
stove  caught  them  unaware. 

"If  my  arms  were  tied,"  remarked  Bill,  "I'd 
rather  trust  myself  to  that  coyote  than  to  Red  Kim- 
ball.  I  hate  to  think  of  Brick  out  yonder  on  the 
mountain,  all  alone,  and  no  fire  to  warm  him,  afraid 
to  smoke  his  pipe,  I  reckon.  Well,  this  kind  of 
thing  can't  last  long,  that's  plain." 

It  was  Wilfred's  conviction  that  "this  kind  of 
thing  "  could  not,  indeed,  last  long,  which  kept  him 
awake  half  through  the  night;  and  yet,  when  the 
morning  sunlight  flooded  the  cove,  it  seemed  impos- 
sible that  deeds  of  violence  could  be  committed  in 
so  peaceful  a  world.  In  that  delusion,  however,  he 


246  LAHOMA 

could  not  long  remain;  Lahoma's  next  letter  came 
confirmatory  of  his  worst  fears. 

"  Just  read  it  aloud,  Wilfred,"  said  Brick,  as  all 
gathered  about  the  lantern  in  the  retreat  at  the  moun- 
tain-top. "  We're  all  one,  now,  and  I've  got  no 
secrets  from  you  —  at  least  none  that's  knowed  to 
Lahoma.  And  if  the  case  seems  immediate,  I  reckon 
you'll  prove  game,  son." 

Wilfred  nodded  briefly.  "  My  horse  is  ready 
saddled,"  he  said,  as  he  opened  the  letter  ad- 
dressed to  Willock.  "  As  soon  as  I've  read  '  Yours 
truly/  I'll  be  ready  to  jump  into  the  saddle,  so  I 
say  '  good-by  '  now !  " 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

LIFE  ON   ONE   CONDITION 

Brick  and  Bill : 

I  put  Bill  in,  because  I  am  sure  that  by 
this  time  he  has  been  told  what  was  in  my  last  let- 
ter, and  I  know  he's  true  blue.  I  have  been  so  ex- 
cited since  finding  out  that  Red  Kimball  is  deter- 
mined on  revenge,  and  that  Mr.  Gledware  may  be  a 
witness  for  him,  that  I  can't  think  about  anything 
but  the  danger  at  the  cove.  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  be 
there,  to  lend  a  hand ;  what  will  you  do  without  me, 
if  that  horrible  highwayman  comes  slipping  around 
Turtle  Hill,  or  creeps  down  the  north  mountain  in 
the  dead  of  night?  And  I  would  be  on  my  way 
there,  now,  if  I  didn't  hope  to  find  out  more  about 
their  plans. 

"  They  have  come  bade  from  the  picnic,  and  I  am 
on  the  watch,  feeling  sure  Red  Kimball  will  come 
again  to  have  another  talk  with  Mr.  Gledware.  But 
he  hasn't  come  yet,  and  everything  is  quiet  and  peace- 
able, as  if  things  were  going  along  as  things  always 
(Jo  and  always  will  —  it  makes  me  dreadfully  nerv- 

247. 


248  LAHOMA 

QUS!  So,  as  it  seemed  that  nothing  was  going  to 
happen,  I  decided  to  stir  up  something  myself. 
When  there's  no  news,  why  not  make  some  of  your 
own  ?  I  made  some. 

"  This  is  the  same  day  I  overheard  that  plot  in 
the  library,  but  it  is  night.  When  it  was  good  and 
dark,  Annabel  came  up  to  my  room  where  I  was 
watching  the  road  from  my  window,  and  she  sat 
down  and  began  talking  about  the  picnic  and  what 
a  fine  time  she  had  had,  with  a  good  deal  about  go- 
ing to  Europe.  She  was  all  flushed  and  running 
over  with  talk,  and  after  a  while  it  came  clear  that 
she's  just  been  engaged  to  Mr.  Gledware. 

"  It  seemed  to  me  it  would  be  like  fighting  behind 
bushes  to  tell  her  what  I  thought  of  Mr.  Gledware, 
while  under  his  roof  and  at  his  expense,  so  I  opened 
up  matters  by  talking  about  Wilfred  Compton.  I 
told  her  how  faithful  and  true  Wilfred  has  been  to 
her  all  these  years,  carrying  her  letters  next  to  his 
heart,  and  dreaming  of  her  night  and  day,  and  how 
he  came  to  see  me,  once,  because  it  had  been  two 
years  since  he'd  seen  a  sure-enough  girl,  and  how  I 
tried  to  interest  him  as  hard  as  I  could,  but  he  never 
wanted  to  come  back  because  his  heart  belonged  to 
Annabel. 

"  After  a  while  she  began  to  cry,  but  it  wasn't  over 


LIFE  ON  ONE  CONDITION          249 

Wilfred,  it  was  over  Edgerton.  When  Wilfred 
went  away  to  be  a  cowboy  she  lost  interest 
and  sympathy  in  him  because  she  doesn't  un- 
derstand cowboys;  they  are  not  in  her  imag- 
ination. But  his  brother  Edgerton  has  always 
been  a  city  man  in  nice  clothes  with  pleasing  man- 
ners, and  if  he  had  money —  But  what's  the  use 
talking?  Seems  like  that's  the  worst  waste  of  time 
there  can  be,  and  the  most  aggravating,  to  say  if 
so-and-so  had  money!  Because  if  he  hasn't  got  it, 
somebody  else  has,  and  if  you  think  money's  more 
than  the  man,  there  you  are.  And  Mr.  Gledware 
has  it.  He's  not  the  man  but  he  has  the  money. 

"  Then  I  expressed  myself.  You  know  what  I 
think.  So  does  Annabel,  now.  That's  how  I  made 
me  some  news,  when  there  wasn't  any.  The  news 
is,  that  Annabel  will  never  forgive  me,  and  as  I'm 
here  solely  as  her  guest,  my  guesting-time  will  be 
brief  —  just  long  enough  to  find  out  what  Mr.  Gled- 
ware decides  to  do.  I  oughtn't  to  have  told  Anna- 
bel that  she  was  mercenary,  or  that  Mr.  Gledware 

was  as.  hard  as  a  stone  and  as  old  as  M (I'm 

not  sure  how  to  spell  him,  but  you  remember:  the 
oldest  man).  Yes,  I  know  I  oughtn't.  If  a  woman 
can  marry  a  man  when  she  doesn't  love  him,  it 
won't  change  her  purpose  to  know  what  you  think 


250  LAHOMA 

about  it,  because  her  own  feelings  are  the  biggest 
things  that  could  stand  in  the  way. 

"  But  I  told  her,  anyway.  Seemed  like  every- 
thing in  me  turned  to  words  and  poured  out  without 
my  having  to  keep  it  going.  I  just  stood  there  and 
watched  myself  say  things.  You  see,  Annabel  is  so 
dainty  and  pretty,  and  naturally  so  sweet  —  and  Mr. 
Gledware  —  well,  he  isn't.  The  more  I  thought  of 
that,  and  the  better  I  remembered  poor  Wilfred 
pining  away  for  her  in  the  desert,  and  not  coming 
back  to  see  me  because  he  couldn't  get  her  out  of  his 
brain,  and  how  she  changed  from  him  to  his 
brother,  and  from  Mr.  Edgerton  to  Mr.  Gledware, 
I  was  ashamed  of  her,  and  sorry  for  her,  and  angry 
with  her. 

"  I  wish  I  hadn't  said  anything.  But  I  felt  glori- 
ous at  the  time,  just  like  a  storm  sweeping  across  the 
prairie,  purifying  the  air  and  not  caring  whether 
the  earth  wants  to  be  purified  or  not.  I  did  wrong, 
because  I  came  to  the  big  world  to  study  people  of 
culture  and  refinement,  not  to  quarrel  with  them. 
You  must  have  money,  you  must  have  money,  you 
must  have  money,  if  you're  civilized.  I  don't 
care  if  I  am  a  little  storm.  Yes,  of  course,  I  know; 
a  storm  isn't  a  civilized  thing.  Well,  I  know  what 
I'm  going  to  do, —  I'm  going  to  come  back  and  blow 


LIFE  ON  ONE  CONDITION          251 

the  rest  of  my  life  right  there  in  the  cove,  with  my 
IBrick  and  my  Bill. 

"  So  that's  my  news,  that  I'm  dissatisfied  with  the 
big  world.  It  isn't  like  I'd  have  made  it,  that's  the 
truth !  Now  I'll  lay  this  letter  aside  to  cool  (I  mean 
it,  and  me,  too)  and  I'll  not  send  it  until  something 
about  Red  Kimball  happens,  so  you'll  be  posted  on 
what  really  matters.  After  all,  people  that  marry 
for  money  aren't  important,  they  don't  belong  to 
big  affairs  —  but  there's  something  worth  discussing 
in  a  plot  to  commit  murder.  That  means  some- 
thing; as  Brick  would  say,  it's  'vital.'  These  peo- 
ple about  me,  kind,  gentle,  correct, —  all  their  waking 
thoughts  are  devoted  to  little  things  —  fashionable 
trifles  that  last  no  longer  than  the  hour  in  which 
they're  born  —  just  time-killers.  I  enjoy  these 
pleasing  trifles,  but  my  eyes  are  opened  and  I  know 
they  are  trifles.  These  people's  eyes  are  not  opened. 
,Why?  Because  they  haven't  lived  in  the  West, 
neighboring  with  real  things  like  alkali  plains  and 
sand-storms  and  granite  mountains. 

"  My!  but  it  would  open  their  eyes  if  one  of  their 
dearest  friends  was  in  danger  of  getting  himself 
hanged !  Something  permanent  in  tliat! 

"LATER:  This  is  midnight.  I  expect  to  leave 
as  soon  as  I  possibly  can,  but  probably  this  letter 


•252  LAHOMA 

will  get  away  first,  so  here's  something  new  to  put 
your  mind  on;  it's  rather  dreadful,  when  you  give 
it  a  calm  thought.  But  my  thoughts  are  not  calm. 
Far  from  it.  Oh,  how  excited  I  was !  But  I  guess 
they  didn't  know  it.  It  all  happened  about  an  hour 
ago,  and  you  can  see  that  my  hand  is  still  a  little 
shaky. 

"  There  was  a  bright  moonlight,  but  you  needn't 
be  afraid  I'm  going  to  talk  about  that;  this  isn't 
any  tale  about  moons.  I  was  sitting  at  my  window 
because  I  couldn't  sleep,  not  that  I  expected  to  see 
anything  unusual.  There's  a  big  summer-house  at 
the  far  end  of  the  lawn,  all  covered  with  vines,  and 
there's  a  walk  between  dense  shrubbery,  leading  to 
it  from  the  house.  I  guess  that's  why  I  didn't  see 
anybody  go  to  that  summer-house.  The  first  thing 
I  did  see  was  Red  Kimball  come  out  and  slip  through 
a  little  side-gate,  and  hurry  along  the  country  road. 
As  soon  as  I  saw  him,  I  guessed  that  he  and  Mir. 
Gledware  had  been  conspiring  in  the  summer-house. 
What  a  chance  I  had  missed  to  act  the  good  scout ! 

"But  it  seemed  no  use  to  go  down,  after  Red 
Kimball  had  left.  If  Mr.  Gledware  was  still  in  the 
summer-house,  I  knew  he  was  alone;  and  if  he'd  re- 
turned to  the  house,  all  was  over  for  the  night.  I 
was  wondering  what  new  plot  they  had  formed,  and 


LIFE  ON  ONE  CONDITION          253 

how  I  was  to  find  out  about  it,  when  my  eye  was 
caught  by  a  movement  in  the  hedge  that  runs  down 
to  the  side-gate.  The  movement  was  as  slight  as 
possible,  but  as  there  wasn't  any  breeze,  it  made  me 
shiver  a  little,  for  I  knew  somebody  was  skulking 
there.  I  watched,  and  pretty  soon  something  passed 
through  the  gate,  light  and  quick  and  stealthy,  like 
the  shadow  of  a  cloud.  Only,  there  wasn't  any 
cloud;  and  in  the  flash  of  moonlight  I  saw  it  was 
our  old  friend  —  Red  Feather. 

"  Almost  as  soon  as  I  recognized  him,  he  had 
disappeared  behind  a  large  lilac-bush ;  but  I  had  seen 
what  he  held  in  the  hand  behind  his  back  —  it  was 
a  long  unsheathed  knife.  The  lilac-bush  stood  close 
to  the  summer-house.  He  fell  flat  to  the  ground, 
and  though  I  couldn't  see  him,  after  that  I  knew 
he  was  wriggling  his  way  around  the  bush.  You 
would  have  been  ashamed  of  me  for  a  minute  or  two, 
for  I  kept  sitting  beside  the  window  as  if  I  had 
been  turned  to  a  statue  of  ice.  I  felt  just  that  cold, 
too! 

"  But  maybe  I  didn't  stay  there  as  long  as  it 
seemed.  First  thing  I  knew,  I  was  running  down- 
stairs as  lightly  and  swiftly  as  I  could,  and  out 
through  the  door  at  the  end  of  the  side  hall  that 
had  been  left  wide  open  —  and  I  was  at  the  summer- 


254  LAHOMA 

house  door  like  a  flash.  There  was  a  wide  path  of 
moonlight  across  the  concrete  floor  and  right  in  that 
glare  was  a  sight  never  to  be  forgotten  —  Red 
Feather,  about  to  stab  Mr.  Gledware  to  the  heart! 
He  held  Mr.  Gledware  by  the  throat  with  one  hand, 
and  his  other  hand  held  the  knife  up  for  the  blow. 
Mr.  Gledware  lay  on  his  back,  and  Red  Feather  had 
one  knee  pressed  upon  his  breast.  In  the  light,  Mr. 
Gled ware's  face  was  purple  and  dreadfully  distorted, 
but  the  Indian  looked  about  as  usual  —  just  serious 
and  unchangeable. 

:(  When  I  reached  the  doorway,  I  blotted  out  most 
of  the  moonlight,  and  I  drew  back  so  Red  Feather 
could  see  who  I  was.  He  looked  up  and  let  go  of 
Mr.  Gledware's  throat,  but  didn't  move,  otherwise. 
' Red  Feather! '  I  said.  ' Give  me  that  knife' 

"  Mr.  Gledware,  recognizing  my  voice,  tried  to 
entreat  me  to  save  him,  but  he  was  half -strangled, 
and  only  made  sounds  that  turned  me  faint,  to  know 
that  the  man  my  mother  had  married  was  such  a 
coward. 

"  Red  Feather  told  me  that  if  I  came  any  nearer, 
or  if  I  cried  for  help,  he  would  murder  that  man  and 
escape ;  but  that  if  I  would  step  into  the  shadow  and 
listen,  he'd  give  his  reason  for  doing  it  before  it  was 
done.  So  I  went  across  the  room  from  him  to  save 


LIFE  ON  ONE  CONDITION          255 

time,  hoping  I  could  persuade  him  to  change  his 
mind.  I  stood  in  the  shadow,  and  in  a  low  voice,  I 
reminded  him  of  his  kindness  to  me,  and  of  our 
kindness  to  him,  and  I  begged  for  Mr.  Gledware's 
life. 

"  Red  Feather  asked  me  if  I  knew  Mr.  Gledware 
was  my  stepfather,  yet  hadn't  acknowledged  it  to 
me.  I  said  yes.  He  asked  me  if  I  didn't  know 
Mr.  Gledware  had  kept  still  about  it  because  he  didn't 
want  the  trouble  and  expense  of  taking  care  of  me. 
I  said,  of  course  I  had  thought  of  that.  He  asked 
if  I  knew  he  had  deserted  my  mother's  dead  body  in 
the  desert  to  save  his  miserable  life.  I  said  I  knew 
that,  but  he  had  taken  me  with  him,  and  he  had 
tried  to  save  me,  and  I  was  going  to  save  him. 

"  Red  Feather  shook  his  head.  No,  he  said,  I 
could  not  save  him,  for  he  would  be  dead  in  two  or 
three  minutes  —  and  then  he  bent  over  Mr.  Gled- 
ware, who  all  this  time  was  afraid  to  move  or  to 
make  a  sound.  I  hurried  to  remind  him  that  he 
hadn't  told  me  his  reason  for  wanting  to  kill  the 
man. 

"  Then  Red  Feather  said  that  when  that  man  rode 
with  me  among  the  Indians,  Red  Feather's  daughter 
had  taken  a  fancy  to  him,  and  Mr.  Gledware  had 
married  her ;  and  I  had  been  kept  away  from  him  so 


256  LAHOMA 

he'd  forget  me  and  not  turn  his  thoughts  toward  his 
own  people;  and  they  had  taught  me  that  my  name 
was  Willock  because  they  were  going  to  take  me  to 
you,  Brick.  Isn't  it  wonderful?  That  day  you 
found  the  deserted  wagon,  and  buried  my  mother, 
Red  Feather  was  watching  you  from  the  mountain 
and  he  wouldn't  kill  you  because  you  made  that  grave 
and  knelt  down  to  talk  to  the  Great  Spirit.  After- 
ward, when  he  rode  home  and  found  that  his  daugh- 
ter and  Mr.  Gledware  were  to  be  married,  he  made 
up  his  mind  that  if  you  succeeded  in  keeping  hidden 
from  Red  Kimball  and  his  band,  you  would  be  the 
one  to  take  care  of  me.  !And  when  two  years  had 
passed  and  you  were  still  safe,  he  brought  me  to 
you !  What  a  glad  day  that  was ! 

"  When  Red  Feather's  daughter  wanted  Mr. 
Gled ware's  life  saved,  it  was  so.  And  Red  Feather 
gave  them  a  great  stretch  of  land,  and  Mr.  Gled- 
ware got  to  be  important  in  the  tribe;  he  made  him- 
self one  of  them,  and  they  thought  him  greater  than 
their  own  chief.  At  the  end  of  a  few  years,  there 
was  the  great  agitation  over  the  boomers  coming  to 
the  Oklahoma  country,  and  much  talk  of  the  land 
being  thrown  open.  The  Indians  didn't  want  it 
done,  and  they  joined  together  to  send  some  one  to 
Washington  to  address  congress  on  the  subject. 


LIFE  ON  ONE  CONDITION          257 

Mr.  Gledware  was  such  an  orator  that  they  thought 
him  irresistible,  so  they  selected  him,  and,  for  his 
fee,  they  collected  over  fifty  thousand  dollars. 
Think  of  it! 

"Of  course  he  didn't  go  near  Washington.  It 
was  the  time  of  Kansas  City's  great  boom.  He 
went  there  and  bought  up  city  lots,  and  sold  out  at 
the  right  time,  and  that's  why  he's  rich  to-day.  In 
the  meantime,  the  Indians  didn't  know  what  had 
become  of  him,  and  Red  Feather's  daughter  died 
from  shame  over  her  desertion  —  just  pined  away 
and  hid  herself  from  her  people  till  she  was  starved 
to  death.  That's  why  Red  Feather  meant  to  kill 
Mr.  Gledware. 

"  When  he  had  finished,  Red  Feather  bent  over 
Mr.  Gledware  and  said  to  him,  *  Me  speak  all  true? 
Tell  Lahoma  —  me  speak  all  true  ?  ' 

"  And  the  man  whispered  feebly,  '  It  is  all  true 
—  don't  kill  me,  for  God's  sake,  don't  kill  me  — 
save  me,  Lahoma,  my  child! ' 

"  I  begged  him  not  to  kill  the  man..  Red  Feather 
said  to  me,  '  You  hear  how  he  treat  my  daughter ! 
You  my  friend,  Lahoma.  You  know  all  that,  and 
yet  you  tell  me  not  kill  him  ? ' 

"  '  I  say  not  kill  him.' 

"  '  Then  you  hate  my  daughter?  ' 


258  LAHOMA 

"  '  My  mother  could  marry  him,  Red  Feather,  and 
I  can  beg  for  his  life.' 

"  He  shook  his  head.  *  No,  Lahoma,  he  die ;  he 
leave  my  daughter  to  die  and  this  hand  do  to  him 
what  he  do  to  her.' 

"  I  never  felt  so  helpless,  so  horribly  weak  and 
useless!  There  I  was,  only  a  few  yards  away,  and 
the  man  was  my  stepfather;  and  his  enemy  was  our 
friend.  And  not  far  away  stood  the  man's  big  house 
filled  with  guests  —  among  them  strong  men  who 
could  have  overpowered  dozens  of  Indians.  But 
what  could  I  do  ? 

"Then  I  had  a  thought.  'Let  him  live,  Red 
Feather/  I  said,  *  but  strip  him  of  all  his  ill-gotten 
property.  Turn  him  loose  in  the  world  without  a 
penny ;  it'll  be  punishment  enough.  You  can't  bring 
back  your  daughter  by  killing  him ;  but  you  can  make 
him  give  up  all  he  has  in  return  for  stealing  the 
money  from  your  tribe.' 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  thought  of  that,  and  I  don't 
know  why  it  made  instant  appeal  to  Red  Feather's 
mind.  I  saw  at  once  that  he  was  going  to  consent. 
All  he  said  was,  '  Talk  to  him  — '  But  I  knew  what 
he  meant. 

"  So  I  crossed  the  room  and  looked  down  at  the 
man.  '  Mr.  Gledware,'  I  said,  '  are  you  willing  to 


LIFE  ON  ONE  CONDITION          259 

give  up  all  your  possessions  in  order  to  save  your 
life?' 

"  '  Oh,  yes/  he  gasped.  '  A  thousand  times,  yes ! 
God  bless  you,  Lahoma ! ' 

'  You  will  deed  all  your  property  away  from 
you?  And  surrender  all  that  you  own,  money, 
bonds,  stocks  and  so  forth  ? ' 

" '  My  God,  yes,  yes ! '  he  wailed.  '  Save  me  — • 
only  save  me,  Lahoma ! ' 

"  I  looked  at  Red  Feather.  '  Shall  he  make  it  all 
over  to  you  ? ' 

"  Red  Feather  shook  his  head.  '  Me  not  want  his 
money.  Let  him  give  all  to  Red  Flower,  the 
daughter  him  not  see  since  he  stole  our  money  and 
desert  his  wife/ 

"  '  Yes,  yes,  yes/  moaned  Mr.  Gledware,  '  I'll  give 
everything  to  her  —  I'll  make  over  everything  to 
her  in  the  morning,  so  help  me  God !  —  if  you  spare 
my  life,  she  shall  have  everything/ 

"  All  this  time  Red  Feather  had  never  moved  his 
knee  from  the  man's  breast.  Now  he  rose  and 
pointed  toward  the  East.  '  The  morning  will  come/ 
he  said  solemnly.  '  If  you  keep  your  word  — - 
well!  If  you  try  fool  Red  Feather  —  if  you  keep 
back  one  piece  of  money,  one  clod  of  earth  — '  He 
wheeled  about  so  suddenly  with  his  drawn  knife  that 


2<5o  LAHOMA 

I  thought  he  was  plunging  it  into  the  man's  heart. 
It  shot  down  like  lightning,  but  stopped  short  just 
before  the  edge  of  the  blade  touched  the  miserable 
coward. 

"  Mr.  Gledware  sobbed  and  gasped  and  choked, 
swearing  that  he  would  keep  his  word,  and  assur- 
ing us  that,  if  he  broke  it,  death  would  be  too  good 
for  him.  But  what  he  will  do  when  he  thinks  him- 
self safe  —  that's  another  thing!  I  know  his  life  is 
as  secure  as  mine,  if  he  is  true  to  his  promise.  But 
if  he  breaks  it  —  well,  we  know  Red  Feather!  Do 
you  think  Mr.  Gledware  will  keep  his  word?  Or 
will  he  wait  to  see  whether  or  not  Red  Kimball  rids 
him  of  the  Indian  ?  I  believe  he'll  be  afraid  to  wait. 
But  as  soon  as  he's  calm,  it  will  be  like  death  for 
him  to  give  up  all  he  owns.  .  That  will  mean  giving 
up  Annabel,  too. 

"  It  hasn't  been  an  hour  since  I  came  back  to  my 
room.  When  Red  Feather  slipped  away,  the  only 
thing  I  asked  Mr.  Gledware  was  my  mother's  maiden 
name,  and  the  place  where  her  people  lived.  I'm 
going  to  leave  here  in  the  morning.  I'm  coming 
back  where  there's  room  enough  to  turn  around  in, 
and  air  enough  to  breathe,  where  men  speak  the  truth 
because  they  don't  care  who's  who,  and  shoot  quick 
and  straight  when  they  have  to.  I'm  coming  back 


LIFE  ON  ONE  CONDITION          261 

where  money's  mighty  scarce  and  love's  as  free  and 
boundless  as  Heaven,  where  good  books  are  few  and 
true  hearts  are  many.  Yes,  I'm  coming  back  to  the 
West,  and  if  the  winds  don't  blow  all  the  sand  away, 
under  the  sand  I  expect  to  be  buried.  But  I  want 
to  live  until  I'm  buried.  People  have  made  the  big 
world  as  it  is, —  well  they  are  welcome  to  it;  but 
God  has  made  the  cove  as  it  is,  and  it's  for  Me  and 
Brick  and  Bill 

"  Good  night. 

"  LAHOMA. 

"  Just  the  three  of  us :  just  Me  and  Brick  and  Bill : 
one  —  two  —  three!  There's  oceans  of  room  out 
in  the  big  world  for  everything  and  everybody. 
But  in  the  cove,  there's  room  just  for 

"Me 

"  And  Brick 
"And  Bill." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

LIKE  LOVERS 

ON  reaching  Chickasha,  [Wilfred  Compton  tele- 
graphed to  Kansas  City  asking  his  brother  if 
Lahoma  was  still  at  Mr.  Gledware's  house  in  the 
country.  In  the  course  of  a  few  hours  the  reply 
came  that  she  had  already  started  home  to  Greer 
County,  Texas.  After  reading  the  message,  Wil- 
fred haunted  the  station,  not  willing  to  let  even  the 
most  unpromising  freight  train  escape  observation. 

Everything  that  came  down  the  track  on  this  last 
reach  of  the  railroad  into  Southwest  Oklahoma,  was 
crowded  with  people,  cattle,  household  furniture, 
stores  of  hardware,  groceries,  dry-goods  —  all  that 
man  requires  for  his  physical  well-being.  The 
town  itself  was  swarming  with  eager  jostling 
throngs  bound  for  many  diverse  points,  and  friends 
of  a  day  shouted  hearty  good-bys,  or  exchanged 
good-natured  badinage,  as  they  separated  to  meet 
no  more. 

Men  on  horseback  leading  heavily  laden  pack- 
horses,  covered  wagons  from  which  peeped  women 

262 


LIKE  LOVERS  263 

and  children  half-reclining  upon  bedding,  their  eyes 
filled  with  grave  wonder  at  a  world  so  unlike  their 
homes  in  the  East  or  North  —  pyramids  of  un- 
dressed lumber  fastened  somehow  upon  four  wheels 
and  surmounted  in  precarious  fashion  by  sprawling 
men  whose  faces  and  garments  suggested  Broadway, 
New  York  and  Leadville,  Colorado  —  Wilfred 
gazed  upon  the  unending  panorama.  In  those 
corded  tents  he  saw  the  pioneer  family  already 
in  possession  of  the  new  land;  in  the  stacks  of  pine 
boards  he  beheld  houses  already  sending  up  the 
smoke  of  peace  and  prosperity  from  their  chimneys; 
and  in  the  men  and  women  who  streamed  by,  their 
faces  alight  with  hope,  their  bodies  ready  for  the 
grapple  with  drought,  flood,  cyclone,  famine,  he  saw 
the  guaranty  of  a  young  and  dominant  state. 

Strangers  greeted  one  another  with  easy  comrade- 
ship. Sometimes  it  was  just,  "Hello,  neighbor!" 
—  and  if  a  warning  were  shouted  across  the  street 
to  one  endangered  by  the  current  of  swelling  life, 
it  might  be — "Look  out  there,  brother!"  The 
sense  of  kinship  tingled  in  the  air,  opening  men's 
hearts  and  supplying  aid  to  weaker  brethren.  Those 
who  gathered  along  the  track  awaiting  the  arrival 
of  the  trains  had  already  the  air  of  old-timers,  eager 
to  extend  the  hospitality  of  a  well-loved  land. 


264  LAHOMA' 

In  such  a  crowd  Wilfred  was  standing  when  he 
first  caught  sight  of  Lahoma  among  those  descend- 
ing to  the  jostling  platform.  He  had  not  known 
how  she  would  look,  and  certainly  she  was  much 
changed  from  the  girl  of  fifteen,  but  he  made  his 
way  to  her  side  without  the  slightest  hesitation. 

"Lahoma!" 

She  turned  sharply  with  a  certain  ease  of  move- 
ment suggesting  fearless  freedom.  Her  eyes  looked 
straight  into  the  young  man's  with  penetrating  keen- 
ness which  instantly  softened  to  pleasure.  "  Why ! 
how  glad  I  am  to  see  you ! "  she  cried,  giving  him 
her  hand  as  they  withdrew  from  the  rush.  "  But 
how  did  you  know  me?  " 

"  How  did  you  know  ?  "  he  returned,  pleased  and 
thrilled  by  her  glowing  brown  hair,  her  eloquent 
eyes,  her  warm-tinted  cheeks,  her  form,  as  erect  as 
of  yore,  but  not  so  thin  —  as  pleased  and  thrilled 
as  if  all  these  belonged  to  him.  "  How  did  you 
know  me?  "  he  repeated,  looking  and  looking,  as  if 
he  would  never  be  able  to  believe  that  she  had  turned 
out  so  much  better  than  he  had  ever  dreamed  she 
would. 

"  Oh,"  said  Lahoma,  "  when  I  looked  into  your 
face,  I  saw  myself  as  a  girl  sitting  under  the  cedar 
trees  in  the  cove,  with  Brick  and  Bill." 


LIKE  LOVERS  265 

"Just  you  three?"  demanded  Wilfred  wistfully, 
—  also  smilingly. 

"  Oho !  "  exclaimed  Lahoma,  showing  her  perfect 
little  teeth  as  if  about  to  bite,  in  a  way  that  filled 
him  with  fearful  joy,  "  a&d  so  they  showed  you  that 
letter!" 

"Just  you  three?"  repeated  Wilfred.  "Just 
room  enough  in  the  core  for  you  —  and  Brick  — 
and  Bill?" 

"  Listen  to  me,  Wilfred,  and  I  will  do  the  talk- 
ing." 

"Well?" 

She  lowered  her  voice  to  a  whisper  — "  Lean  your 
head  closer." 

Wilfred  put  down  his  head.  "  Is  this  close 
enough  ? "  he  whispered,  feeling  exalted.  Men, 
women  and  children  circled  about  them;  the  air  vi- 
brated with  the  shock  of  trunks  and  mail  bags  hurled 
upon  the  platform. 

"  No,"  said  Lahoma,  rising  on  tiptoe. 

Wilfred  took  off  his  hat  and  got  under  hers. 

She  whispered  in  his  ear,  "  Red  Kimball  came  on 
this  train  —  there  he  is  — 'he  hasn't  seen  me,  yet  — • 
was  in  another  coach." 

"  Well  ?  Go  on  talking,  Lahoma  —  I'd  get  closer 
if  I  could." 


266  LAHOMA 

"  S-h-h!  He  knows  me,  for  he  was  a  porter  in 
our  hotel.  .When  he  sees  us  he'll  know  I've  come 
home  to  warn  Brick.  S-h-h!  Then  he'll  try  to 
keep  me  from  doing  it.  Look  —  some  of  his  gang 
are  speaking  to  him  —  they've  been  waiting  here  to 
meet  him  —  they'll  go  with  him,  I  expect.  We'll  all 
be  in  the  stage-coach  together !  " 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  to  'em,  Lahoma  ?  " 

"  I  want  you  to  pretend  that  you  don't  know  me 
—  and  they  mustn't  find  out  your  name  is  Compton, 
or  they'll  think  Mr.  Edgerton  got  word  to  you  to 
join  me  here.  Be  a  stranger  till  we're  safe  in  the 
cove." 

"  All  right.  Good-by  —  but  suppose  I  hadn't 
come?" 

"  Oh,  I  could  have  done  without  you,"  said  La- 
homa. "  Or  I  think  I  could." 

"  You  could  never  have  done  without  me !  "  Wil- 
fred declared  decidedly. 

"I  can  right  now — "  She  drew  away.  "I'll 
get  into  the  stage;  don't  follow  too  soon." 

There  were  three  stage-coaches  drawn  up  at  a 
short  distance  from  the  platform,  and  Lahoma  went 
swiftly  to  the  one  bound  for  her  part  of  the  country. 
She  was  the  first  to  enter;  she  was  seated  quietly 
in  a  corner  when  the  two  long  seats  that  faced  each 


LIKE  LOVERS  267 

other  began  filling  up.  The  last  to  come  were  four 
men:  one,  tall,  slender,  red- faced  and  red-haired, 
two  others  of  dark  and  lowering  faces,  who  looked 
upon  the  former  as  their  leader,  and  the  last,  Wil- 
fred Compton,  who  had  unobtrusively  joined  him- 
self to  this  remnant  of  Red  Kimball's  gang. 

The  stage,  which  was  built  after  the  manner  of 
the  old-fashioned  omnibus,  afforded  no  opportunity 
of  moving  to  and  fro  in  the  selection  of  seats,  hence, 
when  Red  Kimball  discovered  Lahoma's  identity 
-—the  exact  moment  of  the  discovery  was  marked 
by  his  violent  start  —  she  was  safeguarded  from  his 
approach  by  her  proximity  to  a  very  large  woman 
flanked  by  a  thin  spinster.  These  were  two  sisters, 
going  to  the  evening's  station  where  the  coach  would 
stop  for  supper,  and  Lahoma  discussed  with  them 
their  plans  and  hopes  with  bright  cheerfulness  and 
ready  friendship. 

Wilfred  watched  Red  Kimball  as  he  glared  in  that 
'direction,  and  guessed  his  thoughts.  Although 
Kimball  knew  Lahoma,  he  was  not  sure  that  she 
knew  him;  and  though  he  was  convinced  at  once 
that  she  was  on  a  mission  of  warning,  that  might  be 
true  without  her  knowing  that  he  had  left  Kansas 
City.  Red  Kimball  was  burning  to  find  out  if  he 
were  a  stranger  to  her,  but  at  the  same  time  fearful 


268  LAHOMA 

of  disclosing  himself.  He  muttered  to  his  compan- 
ions hoarsely,  careful  that  Wilfred,  whom  he  re- 
garded askance,  should  overhear  nothing  that  he 
said. 

The  situation  was  such  as  could  not  very  well 
continue  during  the  days  it  would  take  the  coach 
to  reach  Mangum;  but  although  Wilfred  was  con- 
scious of  the  strain,  'he  felt  excitedly  happy.  Very 
little  of  his  attention  was  given  to  Kimball,  and  a 
great  deal  to  Lahoma.  She  was  talking  to  the  sisters 
about  the  baby  of  the  one  and  the  chickens  of  the 
other,  offering  advice  on  both  subjects  from  the  ex- 
perience of  a  certain  Mrs.  Featherby  whom  she  had 
known  as  a  child. 

"  Mrs.  Featherby  was  a  very  wonderful  woman/' 
Lahoma  announced  with  conviction,  "  and  the  first 
woman  I  ever  knew.  And  when  her  baby  was 
teething  .  .  ."  The  very  large  lady  listened  with 
great  attention. 

"  She  told  me  this  when  I  was  a  small  girl,"  Wil- 
fred presently  heard  Lahoma  saying.  "  And  I 
treasured  it  in  my  mind.  I  stored  myself  with  her 
experience  about  everything  there  is.  It  came  to 
me,  then,  that  if  she  moved  away  from  Headquar- 
ters Mountain  —  that's  my  mountain  —  maybe  no 
otEer  woman  would  ever  come  there  to  live;  so  I 


LIKE  LOVERS  269 

stored  myself,  because  I  was  determined  to  learn 
the  business  of  being  a  woman." 

The  large  woman  gazed  upon  her  admiringly.  "  I 
guess  you  learned,  all  right." 

They  had  not  gone  five  miles  before  the  large 
woman  and  her  younger  sister  were  in  love  with 
Lahoma  —  but  it  hadn't  taken  Wilfred  five  miles. 
As  he  listened  to  her  bright  suggestions,  and  noted 
her  living  eyes,  her  impulsive  gestures  —  for  she 
could  not  talk  without  making  little  movements  with 
her  hands  —  and  her  flexible  sympathetic  voice,  he 
saw  her  moving  about  a  well-ordered  household. 
...  It  was  on  his  farm,  of  course ;  and  the  house 
was  his, —  and  she  was  'his  Lahoma.  .  .  . 

Red  Kimball  watched  her  with  the  same  sidewise 
attention,  but  his  face  was  brooding,  his  half-veiled 
eyes  were  red  and  threatening.  What  would  happen 
in  the  night-time  as  the  stage  pursued  its  lonely  way 
across  the  bleak  prairie  ?  Since  Red  Kimball  meant 
to  appeal  to  the  law  in  his  revenge  against  Brick, 
there  was  no  danger  of  his  transgressing  it  openly. 
But  in  the  darkness  with  two  unscrupulous  compan- 
ions under  his  command,  he  would  most  probably 
execute  some  scheme  to  prevent  Lahoma  from  reach- 
ing her  destination. 

The  evening  shadows  were  stretching  far  toward 


LAHOMA 

the  east  from  the  few  trees  that  marked  the  dried 
bed  of  a  stream,  when  the  coach  stopped  among  a 
collection  of  hovels  and  tents.  As  the  horses  were 
led  away,  the  passengers  dismounted,  and  both  Wil- 
fred and  Red  Kimball  hurriedly  drew  close  to  La- 
homa. 

Lahoma,  however,  appeared  unaware  of  their 
presence.  sThe  sisters  had  been  met  by  the  husband 
of  the  older,  and  as  they  gathered  about  the  big 
wagon,  Lahoma  was  urged  to  go  home  with  them 
to  supper. 

"We're  only  a  little  ways  out,"  she  was  told, 
"  and  we'll  sure  get  you  back  before  the  stage  leaves 
—  the  victuals  at  the  station  ain't  fit  to  eat." 

A  very  little  insistence  induced  Lahoma  to  com- 
ply, and  both  the  young  man  and  the  former  high- 
wayman saw  her  go  with  disappointment.  Kimball 
and  his  friends  went  into  the  "  Dining  Hall "  to 
gulp  down  a  hasty  meal,  and  Wilfred  entered  with 
them.  He  remained  only  a  moment,  however,  just 
long  enough  to  purchase  a  number  of  sandwiches 
which  he  stored  away,  as  if  meaning  to  eat  them  in 
the  coach. 

As  soon  as  he  was  in  the  single  street  with  the 
door  closed  behind  him,  he  darted  toward  the  stage 
barn,  and  by  means  of  a  handsome  deposit  obtained 


LIKE  LOVERS  271 

two  horses.  Springing  upon  one,  he  rode  rapidly 
from  the  settlement,  leading  the  other,  and  in  a 
short  time,  came  in  sight  of  a  cabin,  which,  with  its 
outhouses,  was  the  only  building  in  all  the  wide  ex- 
panse. From  its  appearance  he  knew  it  to  be  the 
one  described  to  Lahoma,  and  he,  galloped  up  to  the 
door  with  the  certainty  of  finding  her  within.  The 
big  wagon  had  been  unhitched,  and  the  horses  were 
fastened  to  its  wheels,  eating  from  the  bed. 

The  family  was  about  to  sit  down  to  supper ;  the 
first  to  discover  Wilfred  as  he  flitted  past  the  single 
window  in  the  side  of  the  cabin,  was  Lahoma.  Be- 
fore he  could  knock  on  the  door,  she  had  opened  it. 

"Oh,  Wilfred!"  she  reproached  him,  "they'll 
miss  you  and  know  you've  come  to  consult  with  me 
about  warning  Brick." 

"Quick,  Lahoma!"  said  Wilfred,  as  if  she  had 
not  spoken,  "  you  can  ride  a  horse,  I  suppose  ?  " 
He  smiled,  but  his  eyes  were  sparkling  with  im- 
patience. 

In  a  flash,  Lahoma' s  face  was  glowing  with  en- 
thusiasm. She  looked  back  into  the  room  and  cried, 
"  Good-by !  "  Then  Wilfred  swung  her  to  the  back 
of  the  led  horse.  "  We'll  beat  'em ! "  cried  Lahoma, 
as  he  sprang  upon  his  horse.  "  Fast  as  you  please 
—  I've  never  been  left  behind,  yet !  " 


272  LAHOMA 

The  young  man  noted  with  sudden  relief  that  she 
was  dressed  for  the  hardships  of  the  prairie.  It 
came  to  him  with  a  sense  of  wonder  that  he  had  not 
noticed  that  before,  perhaps  from  never  having  seen 
her  in  fashionable  attire.  As  they  galloped  from 
the  cabin,  from  whose  door  looked  astonished  faces, 
Lahoma  answered  his  thought  — > 

"  Up  there,"  she  said,  nodding  her  head  toward 
the  East,  "  I  dressed  for  people  • —  but  out  here,  for 
wind  and  sand." 

Looking  back,  she  saw  the  family  running  out  of 
the  cottage,  waving  handkerchiefs  and  bonnets  as  in 
the  mad  joy  of  congratulation. 

"  They  think  we're  running  away  together !  " 
shouted  Wilfred  with  exultation.  The  hurry  of 
their  flight,  the  certainty  of  pursuit,  the  prospect  of 
dangers  from  man  and  nature,  thrilled  his  blood, 
fixed  his  jaw,  illumined  his  eye.  All  life  seemed 
suddenly  a  flight  across  a  level  world  whose  cloud 
of  yellow  dust  enveloped  only  himself  and  Lahoma. 
'  They  think  we're  running  away  together.  Look 
at  them,  Lahoma.  How  happy  they  are  at  the 
idea!" 

"They  don't  know  there's  nobody  to  object,  if 
we  don't,"  returned  Lahoma  gaily,  as  she  urged  on 
her  steed.  "Come  along,  Wilfred,"  she  taunted, 


LIKE  LOVERS  273 

as  his  horse  fell  a  neck  behind  hers,  "  what  are  you 
staying  back  there  for?  Tired?  If  we  get  into  the 
trail  before  that  coach  starts,  we'll  have  to  put  on 
all  speed." 

"  Doing  my  best,"  he  called,  "  but  I  made  a  bad 
bargain  when  I  got  this  beast.  This  is  his  best  lick, 
and  it  doesn't  promise  to  last  long.  However,  it 
was  the  only  one  left  at  the  barn." 

Lahoma  slightly  checked  her  animal.  "  That's  a 
good  thing,  anyway  —  if  there's  none  left,  those 
horrible  men  can't  follow." 

Wilfred  did  not  answer.  He  was  sure  the  stage 
would  be  driven  in  pursuit  at  breakneck  speed,  and 
from  the  breathing  of  his  horse  he  feared  it  could 
not  long  endure  the  contest.  To  be  sure,  Red  Kim- 
ball  and  his  men  had  no  lawful  excuse  to  offer  the 
stage-driver  for  an  attempt  to  stop  them ;  but  three 
men  who  had  once  been  desperate  highwaymen 
might  not  look  for  lawful  excuses  on  a  dark  night 
in  a  dreary  desert.  Besides,  Kimball  might,  with 
some  show  of  reason,  argue  that  since  he  was  bent 
on  the  legitimate  object  of  having  a  writ  served  on 
Brick  Willock,  he  would  be  justified  in  preventing 
Brick  from  being  warned  out  of  the  country. 

They  galloped  on  in  silence,  Lahoma  slightly  hold- 
ing back.  Night  rapidly  drew  on. 


CHAPTER  XX 

TOGETHER 

BEFORE  them,  the  trail,  beaten  and  rutted, 
stretched  interminably,  losing  itself  in  the  dark- 
ness before  it  slipped  over  the  rounded  margin  of 
the  world.  As  darkness  increased,  the  trail  seemed 
to  waver  before  their  eyes  like  a  gray  scarf  that  the 
wind  stirs  on  the  ground.  On  either  side  of  it,  the 
nature  of  the  country  varied  with  strange  abrupt- 
ness, now  an  unbroken  stretch  of  dead  sage-brush 
showing  like  isolated  tufts  in  a  gigantic  clothes- 
brush  —  suddenly,  a  wilderness  of  white  sand  shift- 
ing as  the  wind  rose  —  again,  broken  rocks  sown 
broadcast.  Before  final  darkness  came,  the  trail  it- 
self was  varicolored,  sometimes  white  with  alkali, 
sometimes  skirting  low  hills  whose  sides  showed  a 
deep  blue,  streaked  with  crimson. 

.-But  now  all  was  black,  sand,  alkali,  gypsum-beds, 
for  the  night  had  fallen. 

In  their  wide  detour  they  had  endeavored  to  es- 
cape detection  from  the  stage-station,  but  sheltered 

by  no  appreciable  inequalities  of  land,  and  denied 

274 


TOGETHER 

the  refuge  that  even  a  small  grove  might  have  fur- 
nished, they  had,  as  it  were,  been  held  up  to  view 
on  the  prairie ;  and  though  so  far  away,  their  horses 
had  been  as  distinctly  outlined  as  two  ants  scurry- 
ing across  a  white  page. 

Wilfred  reflected.  "  If  Kimball,  when  he  came 
out  of  that  restaurant,  happened  to  look  in  this  di- 
rection, he  must  have  seen  us;  and  the  first  inquiry 
at  the  barn  would  inform  him  who're  on  the  horses." 
But  he  said  nothing  until,  from  the  rear,  came  the 
sound  long-dreaded,  telling,  though  far  away,  of 
bounding  horses  and  groaning  wheels. 

"Lahoma!" 

«  Yes  —  I  hear  them." 

"  My  horse  is  about  used  up.  We'll  have  to  side- 
trail,  or  they'll  ride  us  down." 

"  I  could  go  on,"  Lahoma  answered,  as  she  drew 
hard  on  the  bit,  "  but  I  wouldn't  like  to  leave  you 
here  by  yourself." 

"  You  couldn't  travel  that  distance  by  yourself. 
And  good  as  your  horse  is,  it  wouldn't  last.  But 
thank  you  for  thinking  of  me,"  he  added,  smiling 
in  the  darkness,  as  he  dismounted.  "Let  me  lead 
your  horse  as  well  as  my  own." 

"  No,"  said  Lahoma,  "  if  leading  is  to  be  done, 
I'll  do  my  part."  She  leaped  lightly  to  the  ground 


276  LAHOMA 

and  seized  her  bridle.  Side  by  side  they  slowly 
ventured  from  the  trail  into  the  invisible  country  on 
the  left.  They  found  themselves  treading  short 
dead  mesquit  that  did  not  greatly  obstruct  their 
progress. 

"  Keep  going,"  Wilfred  said,  when  she  paused 
for  breath.  "  It  wouldn't  do  for  our  horses  to 
whinny,  for  those  fellows  would  hear  them  if  it 
was  thundering.  Give  me  your  hand." 

"  Here  it  is,"  Lahoma  felt  about  in  the  darkness. 
"My!  but  I'm  glad  I've  got  you,  Wilfred!  Oh, 
how  they  are  dashing  along!  Listen  how  the  man 
is  lashing  his  whip  over  those  four  horses.  Wish 
we  could  see  'em  —  must  be  grand,  tearing  along 
at  that  rate !  " 

The  stage  was  rapidly  coming  up  abreast  of  them, 
and  Wilfred  felt  her  grasp  tighten.  There  was  a 
flash  of  lights,  a  glimpse  of  the  driver's  face  as  of 
creased  leather  as  he  raised  his  whip  above  his  head 
• — then  noise  and  cloud  of  dust  passed  on  and  the 
lights  became  trailing  sparks  that  in  a  minute  or 
two  the  wind  seemed  to  blow  out 

"  My  poor  Brick !  "  Lahoma  wailed.  "  Do  you 
think  he'll  take  good  enough  care  of  himself  from 
what  I  wrote  in  my  letters?  But  no,  he  doesn't 
think  Red  Kimball  is  coming  yet,  for  I  didn't  know 


TOGETHER  277 

it  till  after  I'd  written.  He's  with  Bill  now,  wait- 
ing for  another  letter.  Or  for  a  telegram." 

"  No,  no,  Lahoma,"  Wilfred  tried  to  sooth  her. 
"  He  has  been  hiding  for  days.  Why  should  he 
come  out  just  at  the  wrong  time?  You  wrote  that 
you'd  not  send  any  more  messages.  Brick  will  be 
on  the  lookout  for  KimbalL  He  is  sure  to  be  watch- 
ing out  for  him." 

"  I  know  Brick,"  Lahoma  protested,  seemingly 
all  at  once  overcome  by  the  fatigues  of  her  journey 
and  the  hopelessness  of  the  situation.  "  I  was 
afraid  he  wouldn't  agree  to  hide  at  all;  and  just 
as  soon  as  you  came  away,  and  there  wasn't  any 
more  prospects  of  letters,  he'd  get  lonesome,  and 
tire  of  staying  away  from  home.  He's  in  that  cove 
this  minute,  and  he'll  be  there  when  Red  Kimball 
takes  the  sheriff  after  him."  [Her  voice  quivered 
with  distress. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,  Lahoma,"  urged  Wilfred,  slip- 
ping his  arm  protectingly  about  her.  "  Don't  grieve 
—  I'm  sure  Brick  is  in  a  safe  place." 

"  Well,  I'm  not  in  danger,"  said  Lahoma,  with- 
drawing from  his  involuntary  embrace.  "Don't 
take  me  for  Brick !  Maybe  you're  right  —  but  no, 
I'm  sure  he  wouldn't  be  willing  to  stay  out  in  the 
mountains  week  after  week  —  and  during  these  cold 


278  LAHOMA 

nights !  For  it  is  cold,  right  now.  We  must  hurry 
on,  Wilfred." 

"  There's  one  comfort,"  said  Wilfred,  as  they  re- 
traced their  way  toward  the  trail.  "  Mr.  Gledware 
won't  appear  as  a  witness  against  Brick.  We'll  get 
him  cleared,  easy  enough." 

"  But  Mr.  Gledware  will  appear  against  him,  and 
he'll  swear  anything  that  Red  Kimball  wants." 

"  I  thought  he  agreed  to  do  that  only  on  condition 
that  a  certain  pin — " 

"  Yes!  But  Red  Kimball  brought  him  that  pin 
just  before  I  left!" 

"  Brought  him  the  pin  that  the  Indian  had?  " 

"  Yes,  the  pearl  and  onyx  pin.  And  Mr.  Gled- 
ware seemed  to  consider  it  so  important  that  I 
know  Red  Feather  would  never  have  given  it  up 
while  he  had  life." 

"Then   .    .    .?" 

Lahoma  shuddered.  "  Yes  I  You  see,  now, 
what  a  fiend  Red  Kimball  is.  And  you  know,  now, 
what  a  hold  he  has  over  Mr.  Gledware, — can  make 
him  testify  in  such  a  way  as  to  ruin  my  poor  Brick. 
If  Brick  knew  this,  he'd  understand  how  important 
it  is  to  flee  for  his  life  and  never,  never  let  himself 
be  taken.  But  he  thinks  nobody  could  get  the  bet- 
ter of  Red  Feather.  You  see,  if  he  just  dreamed 


TOGETHER  279 

what  has  happened,  he'd  know  Mr.  Gledware  can 
convict  him." 

"  We  must  reach  Brick  Willock  before  Red  Kim- 
ball  gets  his  warrant ! "  exclaimed  Wilfred  desper- 
ately. 

'  Yes,  we  must,  we  must !  "  Lahoma  was  grow- 
ing slightly  hysterical.  "I  won't  mind  any  hard- 
ship, any  danger  —  but  what  are  we  to  do?  You 
won't  let  me  ride  on  alone  —  and  you  wouldn't  be 
willing  to  leave  me  here  and  take  the  good  horse 
yourself." 

:<  You're  quite  right  about  that ! "  returned  the 
young  man  promptly.  "  We  can  only  mount  again, 
and  go  as  fast  as  my  miserable  beast  can  travel,  hop- 
ing for  some  chance  to  come  our  way.  We  have  the 
advantage  of  not  being  in  the  stage  where  Kimball 
could  keep  an  eye  on  us." 

"  I  ought  to  be  more  thankful  for  that  than  I  am," 
Lahoma  sighed.  They  mounted,  but  as  they  rode 
forward,  Wilfred's  horse  lagged  more  and  more. 

"It's  slow  sailing/'  Wilfred  remarked,  "but  it 
will  give  us  a  chance  to  talk.  By  the  way,  do  you 
feel  ready  for  supper  ?  "  From  his  overcoat  pocket 
he  drew  forth  the  sandwiches. 

It  seemed  to  Lahoma  to  show  an  unfeeling  heart 
to  experience  hunger  at  such  a  time,  and  to  find  the 


280  LAHOMA 

ham  sandwiches  good ;  but  it  was  none  the  less  true 
that  they  were  good,  and  the  mustard  with  which 
the  ham  was  plastered  added  a  tang  of  hope  and 
returned  a  defiant  answer  to  the  cold  inquiry  of  the 
north  wind. 

After  they  had  eaten  and  the  remaining  sand- 
wiches had  been  carefully  stowed  away  in  Wilfred's 
capacious  pocket,  they  pressed  forward  with  renewed 
energy  on  the  part  of  all  save  Wilfred's  horse.  <By 
dint  of  constant  urging  it  was  kept  going  faster  than 
a  walk  though  it  was  obsessed  by  a  consuming  de- 
sire to  lie  down.  In  order  to  keep  Lahoma's  mind 
from  dwelling  on  their  difficulties  and  on  Brick's 
peril,  the  young  man  maintained  conversation  at 
high  pressure,  ably  seconded  by  his  companion  who 
was  anxious  to  show  herself  undaunted. 

Wilfred  chose  as  the  topic  to  engage  Lahoma's 
mind,  the  future  of  Oklahoma  Territory.  The 
theme  filled  him  with  enthusiasm  such  as  no  long- 
settled  commonwealth  is  able  to  inspire,  and  though 
Lahoma  considered  herself  a  Texan,  she  was  able  to 
enter  into  his  spirit  from  having  always  lived  at  the 
margin  of  the  new  country.  Wilfred  dwelt  on  the 
day  when  Oklahoma  would  no  longer  be  represented 
in  congress  by  a  delegate  without  the  right  to  vote, 
but  would  take  its  place  as  a  state  whose  constitution 


TOGETHER  281 

should  be  something  new  and  inspiring  in  the  his- 
tory of  civil  documents. 

Wilfred  meant  to  have  a  part  in  the  framing  of 
that  constitution  and  as  he  outlined  some  of  his 
theories  of  government,  Lahoma  listened  with  quick 
sympathy  and  appreciation.  A  new  feeling  for  him, 
something  like  admiration,  something  like  pride, 
stirred  within  her.  Here  was  a  man  who  meant  to 
do  things,  things  eminently  worth  a  man's  time  and 
strength ;  and  yet,  for  all  his  high  purposes,  there  was 
no  look,  no  tone,  to  indicate  that  he  held  himself  at 
a  higher  valuation  than  those  for  whom  he  meant  to 
labor.  As  in  time  of  stress  the  strongest  man  is 
given  the  heaviest  burden,  so  he  seemed  to  take  to 
himself  a  leading  part  in  the  future  of  his  country 
that  all  who  dwelt  within  its  borders  might  find  it  a 
freer,  a  richer,  a  better  country  because  of  him. 

"  You'll  call  me  ambitious,"  said  Wilfred,  glow- 
ing. "  Well,  I  am.  You'll  accuse  me  of  wanting 
power.  So  I  do !  " 

Her  eyes  flashed.  "And  I'm  ambitious  for 
you !  "  she  cried.  "  Go  ahead  and  get  power.  Take 
the  earth !  Don't  stop  till  you  reach  the  sea  —  that's 
the  spirit  of  the  West.  But  how  did  you  ever  think 
of  these  things?" 

"  During  my  long  winters  on  my  quarter-section, 


282  LAHOMA 

nobody  in  sight  —  just  the  prairie  and  me.  Noth- 
ing else  to  think  about  except  the  country  that's 
new-born.  So  I  studied  out  a  good  many  things, 
just  thinking  about  Oklahoma  and  —  and — " 

Lahoma  said  softly,  "  I  knew  there  was  something 
else  you  thought  about." 

"Yes,"  exclaimed  Wilfred,  thrilled.  "Yes— < 
there  was  something  else !  " 

"A  little  girl,  I  guess/'  murmured  Lahoma 
gently,  with  a  touch  of  compassion  in  her  tone. 

"  You've  guessed  it,  Lahoma  —  yes,  the  dearest 
little  girl  in  the  world.'' 

"  I  wish  she  could  have  cared  for  you  —  that  way 
—  like  your  voice  sounds,"  murmured  Lahoma. 

"  Maybe  she  can,"  Wilfred's  voice  grew  firmer. 
"Yes  — she  must!" 

"  Have  you  found  a  gold-mine  ?  " 

"  What  are  you  talking  about,  Lahoma  ?  What 
has  a  gold-mine  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  Because  nothing  else  goes,"  returned  Lahoma 
decisively.  "You  might  get  single  statehood  for 
Oklahoma,  and  write  the  constitution  yourself,  and 
be  elected  governor  —  but  you'd  look  just  the  same 
to  Annabel,  unless  you  had  a  gold-mine." 

Wilfred  gave  a  jerk  at  his  bridle.     "  Who's  talk- 


TOGETHER  283 

ing  about  Annabel  ?  "  he  cried  rather  sharply.  He 
had  forgotten  that  there  was  an  Annabel. 

"  Everybody  is,"  returned  Lahoma,  somewhat 
sharply  on  her  own  account,  "everybody  is,  or 
ought  to  be !  " 

"/  am  not,"  retorted  Wilfred,  springing  to  the 
ground  just  in  time  —  for  his  horse,  on  being 
checked,  had  promptly  lain  down. 

"  Then  that's  what  you  get !  "  remarked  Lahoma 
severely,  staring  down  at  the  dark  blur  on  the  trail 
which  her  imagination  correctly  interpreted  as  the 
horse  stretched  out  on  its  side. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  NORTHER 

THE  .wind  increased  in  fury.  Fortunately  it 
was  at  their  back.  Wilfred  pressed  for- 
ward on  foot,  leading  Lahoma's  horse;  and,  partly 
On  account  of  their  unequal  position,  partly  because 
of  awkward  reserve,  no  more  was  said  for  a  long 
time.  She  bent  forward  to  shelter  her  face  from 
the  stinging  blast  while  he  trod  firmly  and  method- 
ically on  and  on,  braced  slightly  backward  against 
the  wind,  which  was  like  a  hand  pushing  him  for- 
ward. 

The  voice  of  the  wind  filled  the  night  It  whistled 
and  shrieked  in  minor  keys,  dying  away  at  brief  in- 
tervals to  come  again  with  a  rush  and  roar.  It  pene- 
trated him  to  the  bone,  for  he  had  compelled  her  to 
wrap  herself  in  his  overcoat,  and  when  the  first  sting- 
ing grains  of  fiercely  driven  sleet  pelted  his  cheek, 
he  smothered  a  cry  of  dismay  over  her  exposed 
situation. 

It  could  not  be  far  past  midnight.  .The  prospect 
of  a  snow-storm  in  the  bleak  lands  of  the  Kiowa  ap- 


THE  NORTHER  285 

palled  him,  but  even  while  facing  that  possibility  his 
mind  was  busy  with  Lahoma's  attitude  toward  him- 
self. Evidently  it  had  never  occurred  to  her  that 
Annabel  had  vanished  from  his  fancy  years  ago;  now 
that  she  knew,  she  was  displeased  —  most  unreason- 
ably so,  he  thought.  Lahoma  did  not  approve  of 
Annabel  —  why  should  she  want  him  to  remain  pas- 
sively under  her  yoke?  Unconsciously  his  form 
stiffened  in  protest  as  he  trudged  forward.  The 
wind,  so  far  from  showing  signs  of  abatement, 
slightly  increased,  no  longer  with  intervals  of  pause. 
The  sleet  changed  rapidly  first  to  snow,  then  to  rain 
—  then  hail,  snow  and  rain  alternated,  or  descended 
simultaneously,  always  driven  with  cruel  force  by  the 
relentless  wind. 

At  last  Lahoma  shouted,  "  It's  a  regular  norther ! 
How're  you  getting  along,  Wilfred?" 

Despite  their  discomfort,  his  heart  leaped  at  this 
unexpected  note  of  comradeship.  Had  she  already 
forgiven  him  for  not  loving  Annabel?  "Oh,  La- 
homa ! "  he  cried  with  sudden  tenderness,  "  what 
will  become  of  you?" 

She  returned  gravely,  "What  will  become  of 
Brick?  Northers  are  bad,  but  not  so  bad  as  some 
men  —  Red  Kimball,  for  instance."  A  terrific  blast 
shook  the  half- frozen  overcoat  about  her  shoulders 


286  LAHOMA 

as  if  to  snatch,  it  away.  "  Don't  you  wish  the  In- 
dians built  their  villages  closer  to  the  trail  ?  Ugh ! 
Hadn't  we  better  burrow  a  storm-cellar  in  the  sand  ? 
I  feel  awfully  high  up  in  the  air." 

"  Poor  Lahoma !  " 

"  Believe  I'll  walk  with  you,  Wilfred ;  I'm  turning 
to  a  lady-icicle." 

"  Do !  I  know  it  would  warm  you  up  —  a  little." 
His  teeth  showed  an  inclination  to  chatter.  "  Come 
• —  I'll  help  you  down.  Can  you  find  my  arm?  " 

At  that  moment  the  horse  gave  a  violent  lunge, 
then  came  to  a  standstill,  quivering  and  snorting 
with  fright.  Wilfred's  groping  arm  found  the  sad- 
dle empty. 

"  I  didn't  have  to  climb  down,"  announced  her  un- 
certain voice  from  a  distance.  It  came  seemingly 
from  the  level  of  the  plain. 

'  You've  fallen  —  you  are  hurt !  "  he  exclaimed, 
but  he  could  not  go  to  her  because  the  horse  refused 
to  budge  from  the  spot  and  he  dared  not  loosen  his 
hold. 

"  Well,  Pm  a  little  warmer,  anyway !  "  Her  voice 
approached  slowly.  "  That  was  quick  exercise ;  I 
didn't  know  I  was  going  to  do  it  till  I  was  down. 
Lit  on  my  feet,  anyhow.  Why  don't  you  come  to 
meet  me  ?  " 


THE  NORTHER  287 

"  This  miserable  beast  won't  move  a  foot.  Come 
and  hold  him,  Lahoma,  while  I  examine  in  front,  to 
find  out  what's  scared  him." 

"  All  right.  Where  are  you?  Can  you  find  my 
hand?" 

"  Can't  I !  "  retorted  Wilfred,  clasping  it  in  a  tight 
grasp. 

"  Gracious,  how  wet  we  are ! "  she  panted,  "  and 
blown  about.  And  frozen." 

"  And  scolded,"  he  added  plaintively. 

"  But,  Wilfred,  it  never  entered  my  mind  that  / 
was  the  little  girl.  Would  I  have  brought  up  the 
subject  if  I'd  known  the  truth?  I  never  would. 
That's  why  I  felt  you  took  advantage  ...  a  man 
ought  to  bring  up  that  subject  himself  even  if  I  am 
a  girl  out  West  and  — " 

"But  Lahoma—" 

"  And  not  another  word  do  I  want  you  to  say 
about  it.  Ever.  At  least,  to-night.  Please,  Wil- 
fred! So  I  can  think  about  it.  I'll  hold  the  horse 
—  you  go  on  and  find  out  what's  the  matter. 

"  Besides,  you  said  —  you  know  you  said,  when 
we  were  strolling  —  that  —  that  I  didn't  understand 
such  matters.  And  that  you'd  tell  me  when  it  was 
time.  .  .  ." 

"  It's  time  now,  Lahoma,  time  for  you  to  be  some- 


288  LAHOMA 

body's  sweetheart  —  and  you  said  —  you  know  you 
said,  when  we  were  strolling  —  that  I'd  fill  the  bill 
for  you." 

"  But  I  brought  up  the  subject  myself,  and  I  mean 
to  close  it,  right  short  off,  for  it's  a  man's  subject. 
Oh,  how  trembly  this  horse  is !  " 

"But,Lahoma!" 

"Well,  what  is  it?" 

"  I  just  wanted  to  say  your  name."  He  started 
away.  "  It  sounds  good  to  me." 

"  Yes,  it  stands  for  Oklahoma." 

"  It  stands  for  much  more  than  that !  "  he  called. 

"Yes,"  she  persisted  in  misunderstanding  him, 
"  something  big  and  grand." 

"  Not  so  big,"  he  cried,  now  at  some  distance, 
"but  what  there's  room  for  more  than  Brick  and 
Bill  in  the  cove !  " 

If  she  answered,  the  wind  drowned  her  words. 
With  extended  arms  he  groped  along  the  trail  with 
exceeding  caution.  Suddenly  his  foot  touched  an 
object  which  on  examination  proved  to  be  a  human 
body,  a  gaping  wound  in  its  breast. 

"Found  anything?"  called  Lahoma,  her  voice 
shivering. 

He  rose  quickly  and  almost  stumbled  over  another 
object.  It  was  a  second  body,  stiffened  in  death.  * 


THE  NORTHER  289 

"  I'll  be  there  in  a  minute,"  he  called,  his  voice 
grave  and  steady.  After  a  brief  pause  he  added  — 
"  I've  found  one  of  the  horses  —  it's  dead." 

"  Oh,  oh !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  They've  driven  it 
to  death." 

Wilfred  had  found  a  bullet  hole  behind  its  ear, 
but  he  said  nothing. 

Suddenly  the  horse  held  by  Lahoma  gave  a  plunge, 
broke  away  and  went  galloping  back  over  the  trail 
they  had  traversed,  pursued  by  Lahoma's  cry  of  dis- 
may. "  I  couldn't  hold  him,"  she  gasped.  "  He 
lifted  me  clear  off  the  ground  .  .  ." 

Wilfred  was  also  dismayed,  but  he  preserved  an 
accent  of  calm  as  he  felt  his  way  toward  her,  utter- 
ing encouragement  for  which  their  condition  offered 
no  foundation.  But  his  forced  cheerfulness  sud- 
denly changed  to  real  congratulation  when  his  ex- 
tended hand  struck  against  an  upright  wheel. 

"  Lahoma,  here's  the  stage-coach.  It's  standing 
just  as  we  saw  it  last,  except  for  the  horses." 

"  The  stage-coach !  "  she  marveled,  coming  toward 
him.  "  Oh,  Wilfred,  I  see  now  what's  happened. 
One  of  the  horses  dropped  dead,  and  Red  Kimball 
and  his  men  jumped  on  the  other  three  .  .  .  But  I 
wonder  what  became  of  the  driver?  " 

"  Get  inside!  "  he  ordered.     "  Thank  God,  we've 


290  LAHOMA 

found  something  that  we  can  get  inside  of.  That'll 
shelter  us  till  morning,  anyway,  and  then  we  can 
determine  what's  to  be  done." 

Once  in  the  coach,  they  were  safe  from  the  wind 
which  howled  above  and  around  them,  rattling  the 
small  windows  and  making  the  springs  creak. 
There  was  no  help  for  the  discomfort  of  soaking 
garments,  but  Wilfred  lighted  a  reserve  lantern  and 
placed  it  in  a  corner,  while  thick  leather  cushions 
and  stage-blankets  offered  some  prospect  of  rest. 

As  no  plans  could  be  formed  until  morning  re- 
vealed their  real  plight,  they  agreed  that  all  conver- 
sation should  be  foregone  in  order  to  recuperate 
from  the  hardships  of  the  day  for  the  trials  of  to- 
morrow. Lahoma  soon  fell  asleep  after  her  ex- 
hausting journey  of  a  day  and  half  a  night  since 
leaving  the  train  at  Chickasha. 

For  hours  Wilfred  sat  opposite,  staring  at  her 
worn  face,  pathetic  in  its  youthful  roundness  from 
which  the  bloom  had  vanished,  wondering  at  her 
grace,  beauty,  helplessness  and  perfect  faith  in  him. 
That  faith  revealed  in  every  line  of  the  form  lying 
along  the  seat,  and  spoke  from  the  unconscious  face 
from  which  the  brown  hair  was  outspread  to  dry. 

How  oddly  her  voice  had  sounded,  how  strange 
had  been  its  accent  when  she  said,  "  It  never  entered 


THE  NORTHER  291 

my  mind  that  /  was  the  little  girl !  "  Had  she  been 
sorry  for  the  thought  to  come?  Did  she  think  less 
of  him  because  he  had  not  remained  true  to  Annabel  ? 
Would  it  not  have  been  far  better  to  wait  until  reach- 
ing their  destination  before  hinting  of  love?  Even 
while  perplexed  over  these  problems,  and  while 
charmed  by  that  appealing  face  with  the  softly  parted 
lips,  by  the  figure  that  stirred  in  the  rhythm  of 
slumber,  other  thoughts,  other  objects  weighed  upon 
him  —  the  two  dead  men,  the  dead  horse  just  out- 
side. One  of  those  men  might  be  Red  Kimball; 
other  bodies  might  lie  there  which  he  had  failed  to 
discover.  Had  the  stage  been  attacked  by  Indians, 
or  by  white  desperadoes  who  found  shelter  in  the 
Kiowa  country?  In  either  case,  might  not  the 
enemy  be  hovering  about  the  trail,  possibly  waiting 
to  descend  on  the  coach? 

Armed  and  watchful,  Wilfred  waited  through  the 
hours.  When  no  longer  able  to  bear  the  uncertainty, 
he  crept  from  the  stage  with  the  lantern,  and  ex- 
amined the  recent  scene  of  a  furious  struggle.  There 
were  only  two  slain  —  the  driver  and  one  of  Red 
Kimball's  companions.  Either  Kimball  and  his 
other  comrade  had  escaped,  or  had  been  captured.  If 
any  of  the  attacking  party  had  fallen,  the  bodies  had 
been  borne  away.  Blood-stains  indicated  that  more 


292  LAHOMA 

than  two  had  been  shot.  From  that  ghastly  sight 
it  was  a  relief  to  find  himself  once  more  enclosed  by 
the  coach  walls  with  Lahoma  so  peacefully  sleeping. 

Once  he  fell  into  a  doze  from  which  he  was 
startled  by  the  impression  that  soft  noises,  not  of 
wind  or  rain,  were  creeping  over  the  earth.  He  sat 
erect  with  the  confused  fancy  that  wolves  were  slink- 
ing among  the  wheels,  were  glaring  up  at  the  win- 
dows, were  dragging  away  the  corpses.  The  sudden 
movement  of  his  hand  as  it  grasped  his  pistol  awoke 
Lahoma. 

She  opened  her  eyes  wide,  but  did  not  lift  her 
cheek  from  the  arm  that  lay  along  the  cushion. 
"  There  you  are,"  she  said,  "  just  as  I  was  dream- 
ing." 

He  pretended  not  to  be  uneasy,  but  his  ears 
strained  to  catch  the  meaning  of  those  mysterious 
movements  of  the  night.  Her  voice  cut  across  the 
vague  murmur  of  the  open  plain : 

'*  You  only  came  once !  " 

Although  her  eyes  were  wide,  she  was  apparently 
but  half-awake;  not  a  muscle  moved  as  she  looked 
into  his  face.  "  I  thought,"  she  murmured,  "  it  was 
on  account  of  Annabel." 

"  I  went  away  because  I  loved  you,"  he  answered 
softly.  "  I  promised  Brick  I'd  go  if  I  felt  myself 


THE  NORTHER  293 

caring  —  and  nobody  could  help  caring  for  you. 
That's  why  I  left  the  country.  Just  as  soon  as  we 
laughed  together  —  it  happened.  That's  why  I 
didn't  come  again." 

"  Yes,"  sighed  Lahoma,  as  if  it  was  not  so  hard 
to  understand,  now. 

"  And  that's  why  I've  come  back,"  he  added. 
"  Because  I've  kept  on  loving  you." 

"Yes,"  she  sighed  again.  She  closed  her  eyes 
and  seemed  to  fall  asleep.  Perhaps  it  was  a  sort 
of  knowing  sleep  that  lost  most  of  the  world  but 
clung  tenaciously  to  a  few  ideas.  The  noises  of  the 
night  died  away.  Presently  he  heard  her  murmur 
as  a  little  smile  crept  about  the  parted  lips,  "  The 
cove's  pretty  big  .  .  .  there's  more  room  than  I 
thought." 

When  she  was  wide  awake,  daylight  had  slipped 
through  the  windows.  "  Oh,  Wilfred ! "  she  ex- 
claimed, sitting  suddenly  erect,  and  putting  her  hands 
to  her  head  mechanically.  "  Is  —  are  we  all 
right?" 

"All  right/'  said  the  young  man  cheerily. 
"  There's  a  good  deal  of  snow  on  the  ground  but  it 
was  blown  off  the  trail  for  the  most  part.  Some 
friends  have  provided  us  with  the  means  of  going 
forward." 


294  LAHOMA 

"  But  I  don't  understand." 

"  We'll  finish  the  sandwiches,  and  melt  some  snow 
for  water,  and  then  mount.  Look  —  see  those  two 
Indian  ponies  fastened  to  the  tongue  of  the  stage? 
They'll  carry  us  to  the  next  station  like  the  wind." 

She  stared  from  the  window,  bewildered. 

"  I  don't  know  any  more  about  them  than  you/' 
he  answered  her  thoughts.  "  But  there  they  are  and 
here  we  are."  He  said  nothing  about  the  bodies 
evidently  carried  away  by  those  who  had  brought 
the  ponies.  "  It's  all  a  mystery  —  a  mystery  of  the 
plains.  I  haven't  unraveled  the  very  first  thread  of 
it.  What's  the  use?  The  western  way  is  to  take 
what  comes,  isn't  it,  whether  northers  or  ponies? 
There's  a  much  bigger  mystery  than  all  that  filling 
my  mind." 

"  What  is  that?" 

"  You." 

She  bent  over  the  sandwich  with  heightened  colon 
"  Poor  Brick !  "  she  murmured  as  if  to  divert  his 
thoughts.  But  his  sympathy  just  then  was  not  for 
Brick. 

"  Lahoma,  you  said  that  this  is  a  subject  a  man 
should  bring  up." 

She  looked  at  him  brightly,  still  flushing. 
"Well?" 


THE  NORTHER  295 

"  I'm  bringing  it  up,  Lahoma." 

"  But  we  must  be  planning  to  save  Brick  from 
arrest." 

"  I'm  hoping  we'll  get  home  in  time  —  note  that 
I  say  home,  Lahoma.  I  refer  to  the  cove.  I'm 
hoping  we'll  reach  home  in  time  to  forestall  Red 
Kimball.  We've  lost  a  great  deal  of  time,  but  Brick 
doubtless  is  safely  hiding.  And  when  we  get  to  the 
journey's  end  —  Lahoma,  do  you  know  what 
naturally  comes  at  the  journey's  end?  " 

"  No." 

"  A  marriage." 

"I  thought  that  was  what  you  meant." 

"  Will  you  marry  me  at  the  journey's  end?" 

Lahoma  turned  very  red  and  laid  down  the  sand- 
wich. Then  she  laughed.  Then  she  started  up. 
"  Let's  get  on  the  ponies!  "  she  cried. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
JOURNEY'S  END 

THE  snow,  that  morning,  lay  in  drifts  from  five 
to  eight  inches  across  the  trail,  and  to  the 
height  of  several  feet  up  against  those  rock  walls 
raising,  as  on  vast  artificial  tables,  the  higher 
stretches  of  the  Kiowa  country.  But  by  noon  the 
plain  was  scarcely  streaked  with  white  and  when  the 
sun  set  there  was  nothing  to  suggest  that  a  snow- 
flake  had  ever  fallen  in  that  sand-strewn  world. 
The  interminable  reaches,  broken  only  by  the  level 
uplands  marked  from  the  plain  by  their  perpendicular 
walls,  and  the  Wichita  Mountains,  as  faint  and  un- 
substantial to  the  eye  as  curved  images  of  smoke 
against  the  sky  —  these  dreary  monotonies  and  re- 
motenesses naturally  oppress  the  traveler  with  a 
sense  of  his  insignificance.  The  vast  silences,  too, 
of  brooding,  treeless  wastes,  sun-baked  river-beds, 
shadowless  brown  squares  standing  for  miles  at  a 
brief  height  above  the  shadowless  brown  floor  of 

the  plain  —  silences  amidst   which  only  the   wind 

296 


JOURNEY'S  END  297 

finds  a  voice  —  these,  too,  insist  drearily  on  the  noth- 
ingness of  man. 

But  Wilfred  and  Lahoma  were  not  thus  affected. 
.The  somethingness  of  man  had  never  to  them  been 
so  thrillingly  evident.  They  saw  and  £eard  that 
which  was  not,  except  for  those  having  eyes  and  ears 
to  apprehend  —  roses  in  the  sand,  bird-song  in  the 
desert  'And  when  the  rude  cabins  and  hasty  tents 
of  the  last  stage-station  in  Greer  County  showed 
dark  and  white  against  the  horizon  of  a  spring-like 
morning,  Wilfred  cried  exultantly : 

"  The  end  of  the  journey !  " 

And  Lahoma,  suddenly  showing  in  her  cheeks 
all  the  roses  that  had  opened  in  her  dreams,  repeated 
gaily,  yet  a  little  brokenly : 

"  The  end  of  the  journey!  " 

The  end  of  the  journey  meant  a  wedding.  The 
plains  blossom  with  endless  flower-gardens  and  the 
mountains  sing  together  when  the  end  of  the  jour- 
ney means  a  wedding. 

Leaving  Lahoma  at  the  small  new  hotel  from 
whose  boards  the  sun  began  boiling  out  resin  as  soon 
as  it  was  well  alo'ft,  Wilfred  hurried  after  a  fresh 
horse  to  carry  him  at  once  to  the  cove,  ten  miles 
away.  Warning  must  be  given  to  Brick  Willock 
first  of  all  Lahoma  even  had  a  wild  hope  that 


298  LAHOMA 

Brick  might  devise  some  means  whereby  he  could 
attend  the  wedding  without  danger  of  arrest,  but 
to  Wilfred  this  seemed  impossible. 

He  had  gone  but  a  few  steps  from  the  hotel  when 
he  came  face  to  face  with  the  sheriff  of  Greer 
County.  Cutting  short  his  old  friend's  outburst  of 
pleasure : 

"  Look  here,  Mizzoo,"  said  Wilfred,  drawing  him 
aside  from  the  curious  throng  on  the  sidewalk, 
"have  you  got  a  warrant  against  Brick  Wil- 
lock?" 

Mizzoo  tapped  his  breast.  "Here!"  he  said; 
"  know  where  he  is  ?  " 

Wilfred  sighed  with  relief:  "At  any  rate,  you 
don't!  "he  cried. 

"  No  — 'rat  him !     Where're  you  going,  Bill  ?  " 

"  I  want  a  horse  .  .  ." 

"  No  use  riding  over  to  the  cove,"  remarked  his 
friend,  with  a  grin.  ;<  That  is,  unless  you  want  to 
call  on  some  friends  of  mine  —  deputies ;  they're  liv- 
ing in  the  dugout,  just  laying  for  Brick  to  show  him- 
self." 

"  But,  Mizzoo  I "  expostulated  Wilfred,  "  why  are 
you  taking  so  much  trouble  against  my  best  friend  ? 
The  warrant  ought  to  be  enough;  and  if  you  can't 
get  a  chance  to  serve  it  on  him,  that's  not  your  fault. 


JOURNEYS  END  299 

Your  deputies  haven't  any  right  in  that  cove,  and 
I'm  going  to  smoke  'em  out." 

Mizzoo  chewed,  with  a  deprecatory  shake  of  his 
head.  "  See  here,  old  tap,"  he  murmured,  "  don't 
you  say  nothing  about  being  Brick  Willock's  friend. 
The  whole  country  is  roused  against  him.  Heard  of 
them  three  bodies  ?  " 

Wilfred  explained  that  he  had  just  come  to  towa 

"Well,  good  lord,  then,  the  pleasure  I'm  going 
to  have  in  telling  you  something  you  don't  know,  and 
something  that's  full  of  meat !  Let's  go  wheres  we 
can  sit  down  —  this  ain't  no  standing  news."  The 
lank  red- faced  sheriff  started  across  the  street  with- 
out looking  to  see  if  he  were  followed. 

He  did  not  stop  till  he  was  in  his  room  at  the 
hotel.  "  Now,"  he  said,  locking  the  door,  "  sit 
down.  Yes,  you  bet,  I  got  a  warrant  against  Brick 
Willock!  It  was  sworn  out  by  a  fellow  named 
Jeremiah  Kimball  —  you  know  him  as  '  Red/  The 
form's  regular,  charges  weighty.  Brick  Willock  was 
once  a  member  of  Red  Kimball's  gang;  he's  the  only 
one  that  didn't  come  in  to  get  his  amnesty.  See? 
Well,  he  killed  Red's  brother  — shot  'im.  Gled- 
ware's  coming  on  to  witness  to  it.  Willock  will 
claim  he  done  the  deed  to  save  Gledware's  life  —  his 
and  his  little  gal's.  But  Gledware  will  show  it  was 


3oo  LAHOMA 

otherwise.  Red  told  me  all  about  it.  Brick's  a 
murderer,  and  worst  of  all,  he's  a  murderer  without 
an  amnesty  —  that's  the  only  difference  between  him 
and  Red.  Well,  old  tap,  I  took  my  oath  to  do  my 
duty.  You  know  what  that  signifies." 

"  But  there's  no  truth  in  all  this  rot.  Brick  had 
to  shoot  Kansas  Kimball — " 

"  Well,  let  him  show  that  in  court.  My  business 
is  to  take  him  alive.  That  ain't  all,  that's  just  the 
preface.  Listen!  If  you'll  believe  me,  the  stage 
that  Red  and  his  pards  was  in- — coming  here  to 
swear  out  the  warrant,  they  was  —  that  there  stage 
was  set  on  by  this  friend  of  yours  —  yes,  Brick  has 
gathered  together  some  of  his  old  pards  and  is  a 
highwayman  —  why,  he  shot  one  of  Red's  witnesses, 
and  he  shot  the  driver !  " 

"  I  know  something  about  that  holdup/'  cried 
Wilfred  scornfully.  "  It  must  have  been  done  by 
Indians." 

"  Red  saw  Brick  amongst  the  gang.  He  recog- 
nized him.  Well,  Red  and  his  other  pard  gets  on 
horses  they  cuts  loose,  and  comes  like  lightning,  and 
gets  here,  and  tells  the  story  —  and  maybe  you  think 
this  community  ain't  a-rearing  and  a-charging  and 
a-sniffing  for  blood!  There'd  be  more  excitement 


JOURNEY'S  END  301 

against  Brick  Willock  if  there  was  more  community, 
but  such  as  they  is,  is  concentrated." 

"  Mizzoo,  listen  to  reason.  Don't  you  understand 
'that  Red  wants  revenge,  and  has  misrepresented  this 
Indian  attack  to  tally  with  his  other  lies  ?  " 

"  I  wouldn't  say  nothing  against  Red,  old  tap,  it 
ain't  gentlemanly  to  call  dead  folk  liars." 

"  Dead  folk !  "  echoed  Wilfred,  starting  up. 

"  I  knowed  you  didn't  understand  that  Red's  oflE 
the  trail  forever,"  Mizzoo  rejoined  gently.  "  I 
knowed  you  wouldn't  be  accusing  him  so  rancid,  had 
you  been  posted  on  his  funeral." 

Wilfred  felt  a  great  relief,  then  a  great  wonder. 

"  Yes,  he's  dead.  I  don't  say  he's  better  off,  I 
don't  know ;  but  I  guess  the  world  is.  I  don't  like 
to  censure  them  that's  departed.  Brick  Willock  is 
still  with  us,  and  him  the  county  can't  say  enough 
against.  His  life  wouldn't  be  worth  two-bits  if  any- 
body laid  eyes  on  'im.  Consider  his  high-handed 
doings.  Wasn't  it  enough  in  the  past  to  kill  Red's 
brother,  but  what  he  must  needs  collect  his  pals,  stop 
the  stage-coach,  shoot  two  men  trying  to  get  Red, 
and  one  of  'em  the  innocent  driver?  You  say,  yes. 
But  hold  on,  that  ain't  all  he  done.  No,  sir.  The 
very  next  day  after  Red  swore  out  that  warrant  — 


302  LAHOMA 

and  it  was  yesterday,  if  you  ask  me  —  what  is  saw, 
when  we  men  of  Mangum  comes  out  of  our  doors? 
Three  corpses  lying  on  the  sidewalk,  side  by  side. 
You  say,  what  corpses?  .Wait.  I'm  coming  to 
that.  One  was  that  driver;  one  was  the  pard  that 
got  shot  with  the  driver.  The  other  was  Red  Kim- 
ball  his  own  self." 

"  I  knew  the  bodies  had  been  carried  away  from 
the  trail,"  exclaimed  Wilfred  in  perplexity.  He  re- 
lated his  discoveries  of  the  stormy  night. 

"  But  you  didn't  know  they  had  been  brung  to 
town  all  this  distance  to  be  laid  beside  Red.  You 
didn't  know  Red  had  been  stabbed  so  he  could  be 
added,  too.  You  didn't  know  the  three  of  them  had 
been  left  on  the  street  to  rile  up  every  man  with 
blood  in  his  veins.  Why,  Wilfred,  it's  an  insult  to 
the  whole  state  of  Texas.  Such  high-handed  doings 
ain't  to  be  bore.  If  Brick  Willock  don't  want  to 
be  tried  in  court,  is  that  an  excuse  for  killing  off  all 
that  might  witness  against  him?  It  might  of  been 
once.  But  we're  determined  to  have  a  county  of 
law-abiding  citizens.  Such  free  living  has  got  to 
be  nipped  in  the  bud,  or  we'll  have  another  No-Mian's 
Land.  We're  determined  to  live  under  the  laws. 
This  is  civilization.  The  cattle  business  is  dead, 
land  is  getting  tied  up  by  title-deeds,  the  deer's  gone, 


JOURNEY'S  END  303 

and  there's  nothing  left  but  civilization.  And  I  am 
the  —  er  —  as  sheriff  of  Greer  County  I  am  a  —  I 
am  the  angel  of  civilization,  you  may  say." 

Mizzoo  started  up,  too  excited  to  notice  Wilfred's 
suddenly  distorted  face.  It  was  no  time  to  display 
a  sense  of  the  ludicrous ;  the  young  man  hotly  burst 
into  passionate  argument  and  reasonable  hypoth- 


esis." 


"  We've  got  civilization,"  Mizzoo  declared 
doggedly,  "  and  we  aim  to  hold  on  to  her,  you  bet ! 
There's  going  to  be  no  such  doings  as  three  corpses 
stretched  out  on  the  sidewalk  for  breakfast,  not 
while  I'm  at  the  helm.  How'd  that  look,  if  wrote 
up  for  the  New  York  papers  ?  That  ain't  all  —  re- 
member that  ghost  I  used  to  worry  my  life  out  over, 
trying  to  meet  up  with  on  the  trail?  Him,  or  her 
or  it,  that  haunted  every  step  of  the  way  from 
Abilene  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico?  It's  a  flitting,  that 
ghost  is !  Well,  I  don't  claim  that  no  ghost  is  in  my 
jurisdiction.  Brick's  flesh  and  blood,  there's  bone 
to  him.  As  my  aunt  (Miss  Sue  of  Missouri)  used 
to  say,  '  he's  some  man.9 ' 

Waving  aside  Mizzoo's  ghost,  WTilfred  elaborated 
his  theory  of  an  Indian  attack,  described  Brick's 
peaceable  disposition,  his  gentleness  to  Lahoma  — 
then  dwelt  on  the  friendship  between  himself  and 


$04  LAHOMA 

Brick,  and  the  relations  between  himself  and  Brick's 
ward. 

"  It  all  comes  to  this,"  Mizzoo  declared:  "  if  you 
could  make  me  think  Willock  a  harmless  lamb  and  as 
innocent,  it  wouldn't  change  conditions.  This 
neighborhood  calls  for  his  life  and'd  take  it  if  in 
reach;  and  my  warrant  calls  for  his  arrest  All  I 
can  promise  is  to  get  him,  if  possible,  behind  the  bars 
before  the  mob  gets  him  in  a  rope.  As  my  aunt, 
whom  I  have  oft-times  quoted  —  my  aunt  (Missi 
Sue  of  Missouri,  a  woman  of  elegant  sense)  — • 
'  that's  the  word/  she  used  to  say, '  with  the  bark  on 
it!'" 

Wilfred  permitted  himself  the  pleasure  of  taunt- 
ing Mizzoo  with  the  very  evident  truth  that  before 
Willock  was  hanged  or  imprisoned,  he  must  first  be 
caught. 

Mizzoo  grinned  good-naturedly.  "Yap.  Well, 
we've  got  a  clew  locked  up  in  jail  right  now  that 
could  tell  us  something,  I  judge,  and  will  tell  us 
something  before  set  free;  it's  name  is  Bill  Atkins. 
He's  a  wise  old  coon,  but  as  sour  as  a  boiled  owl, — • 
nothing  as  yet  to  be  negotiated  with  him  than  if  he 
was  a  bobcat  catched  in  a  trap.  We're  hoping  time'H 
mellow  him  - —  time  and  the  prospect  of  being  took 
out  and  swung  from  the  nearest  limb  —  speaking 


JOURNEY'S  END  505 

literary,  not  by  nature,  as  you  know  trees  is  as  scarce 
about  here  as  Brick  Willock  himself." 

Wilfred  insisted  on  an  immediate  visit  to  Bill. 
"  Brick  declared  he  wouldn't  tell  Bill  his  hiding- 
place,"  he  said,  "  for  he  didn't  want  to  get  him  into 
trouble.  He'll  tell  me  if  he  knows  anything  —  and 
if  he  doesn't,  it's  an  outrage  to  shut  him  up,  old  as 
he  is,  and  as  rheumatic  as  he's  old." 

On  the  way  to  the  rudely  improvised  prison,  Miz- 
zoo  defended  himself.  "He  wasn't  too  old  and 
rheumatic  to  fight  like  a  wildcat  —  why,  he  had  to 
be  lifted  up  bodily  and  carried  into  his  cell.  Not 
a  word  can  we  get  out  of  him,  or  a  bite  of  grub  into 
him.  I  believe  that  old  codger's  just  too  obstinate 
to  die!" 

When  they  reached  the  prison  door,  the  crowd 
gathered  about  them,  eager  for  news,  watching 
Mizzoo  unfasten  the  door  as  if  he  were  unlocking 
the  secret  to  Willock's  whereabouts.  There  were 
loud  imprecations  on  the  head  of  the  murderer,  and 
fierce  prophecies  as  to  what  would  happen  to  Bill  if 
he  preserved  his  incriminating  silence.  It  seemed 
but  a  moment  before  hurrying  forms  from  many 
directions  packed  themselves  into  a  mass  before  the 
jail. 

The  cells  were  in  the  basement.     The  only  en- 


3o6  LAHOMA 

trance  to  the  building  was  by  means  of  a  flight  of  six 
steps  leading  to  an  unroofed  platform  before  the 
door  of  the  story  proper.  Mizzoo  and  Wilfred, 
standing  on  this  platform,  were  lifted  above  the 
heads  of  perhaps  a  hundred  men  who  watched 
eagerly  the  dangling  bunch  of  keys.  .  M,'izzoo  had 
stationed  three  deputies  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  to 
keep  back  the  mob,  for  if  the  excited  men  once 
rushed  into  the  jail  nothing  could  check  their  course. 
The  deputies,  tall  broad-shouldered  fellows,  pushed 
back  the  threatening  tide,  always  with  good-natured 
protests, —  words  half  bantering,  half  appealing,  re- 
pulsive thrusts  of  the  arms,  rough  but  inflicting  no 
hurt.  So  peaceful  a  minute  before  had  been  the 
Square,  it  was  difficult  to  comprehend  the  sudden 
spirit  of  danger. 

Mizzoo  whispered  to  Wilfred,  "  We'd  better  get 
in  as  quick  as  possible." 

The  words  were  lost  in  the  increasing  roar  of 
yoices.  He  spoke  again : 

:<  When  I  swing  open  the  door,  that  bunch  will 
try  to  make  a  run  for  it.  You  jump  inside  and  I'll 
be  after  you  like  a  shot  .  .  .  We'll  lock  ourselves 


in—" 


Hey,  Mizzoo!  "  shouted  a  voice  from  the  crowd, 


JOURNEY'S  END  307 

"bring  out  that  old  cuss.  Drag  him  to  the  plat- 
form, we  want  to  hear  what  he's  got  to  say." 

"  Say,  Mr.  Sheriff!  Tell  him-  if  he  won't  come 
to  us,  we'll  go  to  him.  We've  got  to  know  where 
'Brick  Willock's  hiding,  and  that's  all  about  it." 

"Sure!"  growled  a  third.  "What  kind  of  a 
town  is  this,  anyway?  A  refuge  for  highwaymen 
and  murderers  ?  " 

A  struggle  took  place  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs, 
not  so  good-naturedly  as  heretofore.  A  reasoning 
voice  was  heard :  "  Just  let  me  say  a  word  to  the 
boys." 

"  Yes !  "  called  others,  "  let's  hear  him! " 

There  was  a  surging  forward,  and  a  man  was 
lifted  literally  over  the  heads  of  the  three  deputies; 
he  reached  the  platform  breathless,  disheveled,  but 
triumphant.  It  was  the  survivor  of  Red  Kimball's 
band. 

Mizzoo,  mistaking  his  coming  for  a  general  rush, 
had  hastily  relocked  the  door,  and  he  and  Wilfred 
defended  themselves  with  drawn  revolvers. 

"  I  ain't  up  here  to  do  no  harm,"  called  the  ex- 
highwayman.  "  I  ain't  got  the  spirit  for  warfare. 
My  chief  is  killed,  my  pards  is  dead.  Even  that  in- 
nocent stage-driver  what  knew  nothing  of  us,  is 


3o8  LAHOMA 

killed  in  the  attack  that  Brick  Willock  made  on  us 
in  the  dark  and  behind  pur  backs.  How're  you 
going  to  grow  ^fien  tHe  jvhole  world  knows  you 
ain't  nothing  but  a  den  of  snakes  ?  You  may  claim 
it's  all  Brick  Willock.  I  say  if  he's  bigger  than  the 
town,  if  he  murders  and  stabs  and  you  can't  help  it, 
then  the  town  ain't  as  good  as  him.  My  life's  in 
danger.  I  clon't  know  if  I'll  draw  another  breath. 
What  kind  of  a  reputation  is  that  for  you  to  send 
abroad?  There's  a  man  in  this  jail  can  tell  you 
where  Willock's  hiding.  Good  day !  " 

The  speaker  was  down  the  steps  in  two  leaps,  and 
the  deputies  drew  aside  to  let  him  pass  out.  Civic 
pride,  above  all,  civic  ambition,  had  been  touched  to 
tHe  quick.  A  hoarse  roar  followed  the  speech,  and 
cries  for  Bill  grew  frantic.  Mizzoo,  afraid  to  un- 
lock the  'door,  stared  at  Wilfred  in  perplexity. 

"  I  told  you  they  had  civilization  on  the  brain," 
Ke  muttered.  "  The  old  times  are  past.  I  daresn't 
make  a  move  toward  that  lock." 

"  Drop  the  keys  behind  you  —  I'll  get  'em,"  Wil- 
fred murmured.  "  Step  a  little  forward.  Say 
something  to  'em." 

"Ain't  got  nothing  to  say,"  growled  Mizzoo, 
glaring  at  the  mob.  "  These  boys  are  in  the  right 
of  it,  that's  how  I  feel  —  cuss  that  obstinate  old 


JOURNEY'S  END  309 

bobcat!  it's  his  own  fault  if  they  string  him  up." 

"Here  they  come!"  Wilfred  exclaimed. 
"Steady  now,  old  Mizzoo  —  we've  whipped  packs 
of  wolves  before  to-day- — coyotes  crazy  with 
hunger  —  big  gray  loafers  in  the  rocks  — eh, 
Mizzoo?"  ,He  shouted  to  the  deputies  who  had 
been  pushed  against  the  railing :  "  Give  it  to  'em, 
boys!" 

But  the  deputies  did  not  fire,  and  the  mob,  though 
chafing  with  mad  impatience,  did  not  advance.  It 
was  a  single  figure  that  swept  up  the  steps,  unob- 
structed, aided,  indeed,  by  the  mass  of  packed  men 
in  the  street  —  a  figure  slight  and  erect,  tingling  with 
the  necessity  of  action  to  which  every  vein  and 
muscle  responded,  tingling  so  vitally,  so  electrically, 
that  the  crowd  also  tingled,  not  understanding,  but 
none  the  less  thrilled. 

"Lahoma!"  Wilfred  was  at  her  side.  "You 
here!" 

"  Yes,  I'm  here,"  she  returned  breathlessly,  her 
face  flaming  with  excitement  "  I'm  going  to  talk' 
to  these  people  —  let  me  have  that — "  She  took 
the  revolver  from  his  unresisting  hand,  uncocked  it, 
and  slipped  it  into  her  bosom.  Then  she  faced  the 
mob  and  held  up  her  empty  hand. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

FACING  THE  MOB 

IT  was  the  first  time  Lahoma  had  ever  faced  an 
audience  larger  than  that  composed  of  Brick 
and  Bill  and  Willock,  for  in  the  city  she  had  been 
content  to  play  an  unobtrusive  part,  listening  to 
others,  commenting  inwardly.  Speech  was  now 
but  a  mode  of  action,  and  in  her  effort  to  turn  the 
sentiment  of  the  mob,  she  sought  not  for  words  but 
emotions.  Bill's  life  was  at  stake.  What  could 
she  say  to  make  them  Bill's  friends?  After  her  up- 
lifted hand  had  brought  tense  silence,  she  stood  at 
a  loss,  her  eyes  big  with  the  appeal  her  tongue  re- 
fused to  utter. 

The  mob  was  awed  by  that  light  in  her  eyes,  by 
the  crimson  in  her  cheeks,  by  her  beauty,  freshness 
and  grace.  They  would  not  proceed  to  violence 
while  she  stood  there  facing  them.  Her  power  she 
recognized,  but  she  understood  it  was  that  of 
physical  presence.  When  she  was  gone,  her  influ- 
ence would  depart.  They  knew  Brick  and  Bill  Had 

sheltered  her  from  her  tenderest  years,  they  a'd- 

310 


FACING  THE  MOB  311 

mired  her  fidelity.  Whatever  she  might  say  to  try 
to  move  their  hearts  would  come  from  a  sense  of 
gratitude  and  would  be  received  in  tolerant  silence. 
The  more  guilty  the  highwayman,  the  more  com- 
mendable her  loyalty.  But  it  would  not  change 
their  purpose;  as  if  waiting  for  a  storm  to  pass, 
they  stood  stolid  and  close-mouthed,  slightly  bent 
forward,  unresisting,  but  unmoved. 

"  I'm  a  western  girl,"  Lahoma  said  at  last,  "  and 
ever  since  Brick  Willock  gave  me  a  home  when  I 
had  none,  I've  lived  right  over  yonder  at  the  foot 
of  the  mountains.  I  was  there  when  the  cattlemen 
came,  before  the  Indians  had  given  up  this  country; 
and  I  was  here  when  the  first  settlers  moved  in,  and 
when  the  soldiers  drove  them  out.  I  was  living  in 
the  cove  with  Brick  Willock  when  people  came  up 
from  Texas  and  planted  miles  and  miles  of  wheat; 
and  I  used  to  play  with  the  rusty  plows  and  ma- 
chinery they  left  scattered  about  —  after  the  three 
years'  drought  had  starved  them  back  to  their 
homes.  Then  Old  Man  Walker  came  to  Red 
River,  sent  his  cowboys  to  drive  us  out  of  the  cove, 
and  your  sheriff  led  the  bunch.  And  it  was  Brick 
and  myself  that  stood  them  off  with  our  guns,  our 
backs  to  the  wall  and  our  powder  dry,  and  we  never 
saw  Mizzoo  in  our  cove  again.  So  you  see,  I  ought 


3i2  LAHOMA 

to  be  able  to  talk  ta  western  men  in  a  way  they  can 
appreciate,  and  if  there's  anybody  here  that's  not 
a  western  man  —  he  couldn't  understand  our  style, 
anyhow  —  he'd  better  go  where  he's  needed,  for  out 
West  you  need  only  western  men  —  like  Brick  Wil- 
lock,  for  instance," 

At  reference  to  the  well-known  incident  of  Miz- 
zoo's  attempt  to  drive  Willock  from  the  cove,  there 
was  a  sudden  wave  of  laughter,  none  the  less  hearty 
because  Mizzoo's  face  had  flushed  and  his  mouth1 
had  opened  sheepishly.  But  at  the  recurrence  of 
Willock's  name,  the  crowd  grew  serious.  They  felt 
the  justice  of  her  claim  that  out  West  only  western 
men  were  needed;  they  excused  her  for  thinking 
Brick  a  model  type ;  but  let  any  one  else  hold  him  up 
before  them  as  a  model !  .  .  . 

Lahoma's  manner  changed;  it  grew  deeper  and 
more  forceful: 

"  Men,  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  this  case  — • 
will  you  be  the  jury?  Consider  what  kind  of  man 
swore  out  that  warrant  against  Brick  —  the  leader 
of  a  band  of  highwaymen!  And  who's  his  chief 
witness?  You  don't  know  Mr.  Gledware.  I  do. 
You've  heard  he's  a  rich  and  influential  citizen  in 
the  East.  That's  true.  But  I'm  going  to  tell  you 
something  to  show  what  he  is  —  and  what  Brick 


FACING  THE  MOB  313 

Willock  is;  just  one  thing;  that's  all  I'll  say  about 
the  character  of  either.  As  to  Red  Kimball,  you 
don't  have  to  be  told.  I'm  not  going  to  talk  about 
the  general  features  of  the  case  —  as  to  whether 
Brick  was  ever  a  highwayman  or  not ;  as  to  whether 
he  killed  Red's  brother  to  save  me  and  my  step- 
father, or  did  it  in  cold  blood;  as  to  whether  he 
held  up  the  stage  or  not.  These  things  you've  dis- 
cussed ;  you've  formed  opinions  about  them.  I  want 
to  tell  you  something  you  haven't  heard.  Will  you 
listen?" 

At  first  no  one  spoke.  Then  from  the  crowd 
came  a  measured  impartial  voice:  "We  got  lots 
of  time." 

She  was  not  discouraged  by  the  intimation  in  the 
tone  that  all  her  speaking  was  in  vain.  Several  in 
the  crowd  looked  reproachfully  at  him  who  had 
responded,  feeling  that  Lahoma  deserved  more  con- 
sideration; but  in  the  main,  the  men  nodded  grim 
approval.  They  had  plenty  of  time  —  but  at  the 
end  of  it,  Bill  would  either  tell  all  he  knew,  or  ... 

Lahoma  plunged  into  the  midst  of  her  narrative : 

"  One  evening  Brick  came  on  a  deserted  mover's 
wagon;  he'd  traveled  all  day  with  nothing  to  eat  or 
drink,  and  he  got  into  the  wagon  to  escape  the 
blistering  sun.  In  there,  he  found  a  dead  woman, 


3 14  LAHOMA 

stretched  on  her  pallet.  He  had  a  great  curiosity 
to  see  her  face,  so  he  began  lifting  the  cloth  that 
covered  her.  He  saw  a  pearl  and  onyx  pin  at  her 
throat  It  looked  like  one  his  mother  used  to  wear. 
So  he  dropped  the  cloth  and  never  looked  at  her 
face.  She  had  died  the  evening  before,  and  he 
knew  she  wouldn't  have  wanted  any  one  to  see  her 
then.  And  he  dug  a  grave  in  the  sand,  though  she 
was'nothing  to  him,  and  buried  her  —  never  seeing 
her  face  —  and  covered  the  spot  with  a  great  pyra- 
mid of  stones,  and  prayed  for  her  little  girl  — I  was 
her  little  girl  —  the  Indians  had  carried  me  away. 
You'll  say  that  was  a  little  thing;  that  anybody 
would  have  buried  the  poor  helpless  body.  Maybe 
so.  But  about  not  looking  at  her  face  —  well,  I 
don't  know;  it  was  a  little  thing,  of  course,  but 
somehow  it  just  seems  to  show  that  Brick  Willock 
wasn't  little  —  had  something  great  in  his  soul,  you 
know.  Seems  to  show  that  he  couldn't  have  been 
a  common  murderer.  It's  something  you'll  have  to 
feel  for  yourselves,  nobody  could  explain  it  so  you'd 
see,  if  you  don't  understand  already." 

The  men  stared  at  her,  somewhat  bewildered,  say- 
ing nothing.  In  some  breasts,  a  sense  of  something 
delicate,  not  to  be  defined,  was  stirred. 

"  One  day,"   Lahoma  resumed,   "  Brick   saw  a 


FACING  THE  MOB  315 

white  man  with  some  Indians  standing  near  that 
grave.  He  couldn't  imagine  what  they  meant  to 
do,  so  he  hid,  thinking  them  after  him.  Years 
afterward  Red  Feather  explained  why  they  came 
that  evening  to  the  pile  of  stones.  The  white  man 
was  Mr.  Gledware.  After  Red  Kimball's  gang  cap- 
tured the  wagon-train,  Mr.  Gledware  escaped,  mar- 
ried Red  Feather's  daughter  and  lived  with  the 
Indians;  he'd  married  immediately,  to  save  his  life, 
and  the  tribe  suspected  he  meant  to  leave  Indian 
Territory  at  the  first  chance.  Mr.  Gledware,  great 
coward,  was  terrified  night  and  day  lest  the  sus- 
picions of  the  Indians  might  finally  cost  him  his  life. 
"  It  wasn't  ten  days  after  the  massacre  of  the 
emigrants  till  he  decided  to  give  a  proof  of  good 
faith.  Too  great  a  coward  to  try  to  get  away  and 
caring  too  much  for  his  wife's  rich  lands  to  want  to 
leave,  he  told  about  the  pearl  and  onyx  pin  —  he  said 
he  wanted  to  give  it  to  Red  Flower.  A  pretty  good 
Indian,  Red  Feather  was  —  true  friend  of  mine; 
he  wouldn't  rob  graves !  But  he  said  he'd  take  Mr. 
Gledware  to  the  place,  and  if  he  got  that  pin,  they'd 
all  know  he  meant  to  live  amongst  them  forever. 
That's  why  the  band  was  standing  there  when  Brick 
Willock  looked  from  the  mountain-top.  Mr.  Gled- 
ware dug  up  the  body,  after  the  Indians  had  rolled 


3i6  LAHOMA 

away  the  stones  —  the  body  of  his  wife  —  my 
mother!  —  the  body  whose  face  Brick  Willock 
wouldn't  look  at,  in  its  helplessness  of  death.  Mr. 
Gledware  is  the  principal  witness  against  Brick.  If 
you  don't  feel  what  kind  of  man  he  is  from  what 
I've  said,  nobody  could  explain  it  to  you/' 

From  several  of  the  intent  listeners  burst  involun- 
tary denunciations  of  Gledware,  while  on  the  faces 
of  others  showed  a  momentary  gleam  of  horror. 

Red  Kimball's  confederate  spoke  loudly,  harshly: 
"  But  who  killed  Red  Kimball  and  his  pard  and  the 
stage-driver,  if  it  wasn't  Brick  Willock?  " 

"  I  think  it  was  Red  Feather's  band.  I'm  witness 
to  the  fact  that  Kimball  agreed  to  bring  Mr.  Gled- 
ware the  pearl  and  onyx  pin  on  condition  that  Mr. 
Gledware  appear  against  Brick.  After  Mr.  Gled- 
ware deserted  Red  Flower,  or  rather  after  her  death, 
Red  Feather  carried  that  pin  about  him ;  Mr.  Gled- 
ware knew  he'd  never  give  it  up  alive.  He  was 
always  afraid  the  Indian  would  find  him  —  and  at 
last  he  did  find  him.  But  Red  Kimball  got  the  pin 
—  could  that  mean  anything  except  that  Kimball 
discovered  the  Indian's  hiding-place  and  killed  him  ? 
But  for  that,  I'd  think  it  Red  Feather  who  attacked 
the  stage  and  killed  Red  Kimball.  As  it  is,  I  be- 
lieve it  must  have  been  his  friends." 


FACING  THE  MOB  317 

"Now  you've  said  something!"  cried  Mizzoo. 
"Boys,  don't  you  think  it's  a  reasonable  explana- 
tion?" 

Some  of  them  did,  evidently,  for  the  grim  resolu- 
tion on  their  faces  softened;  others,  however,  were 
unconvinced. 

A  stern  voice  was  raised :  "  Let  Brick  Willock 
come  do  his  own  explaining.  Bill  Atkins  knows 
where  he's  hiding  out  —  and  we  got  to  know. 
We've  started  in  to  be  a  law-abiding  county,  and 
that  there  warrant  against  Willock  has  got  the  right 
of  way." 

"  You've  no  warrant  against  Bill,"  cried  Wilfred, 
stepping  to  the  edge  of  the  platform,  "  therefore 
you've  violated  the  law  in  locking  him  up." 

"  That's  so,"  exclaimed  Red  Kimball's  former 
comrade.  "  ,Well,  turn  'im  loose,  that's  what  we  ask 
—  let  him  go  —  open  the  jail  door !  " 

"  He's  locked  up  for  his  own  safety,"  shouted 
Mizzoo.  "  You  fellows  agree  to  leave  him  alone, 
and  I'll  turn  him  out  quick  enough.  You  talk  about 
the  law  —  what  you  want  to  do  to  Bill  ain't  overly 
lawful,  I  take  it." 

"  If  he  gives  up  his  secret  we  ain't  going  to  handle 
him  rough,"  was  the  quick  retort. 

Lahoma  found  that  the  softening  influence  she 


3i8  LAHOMA 

had  exerted  was  already  fast  dissipating.  They 
bore  with  her  merely  because  of  her  youth  and  sex. 
She  cried  out  desperately. 

"  Is  there  nothing  I  can  say  to  move  your  hearts  ? 
Has  my  story  of  that  pearl  and  onyx  pin  been  lost 
on  you  ?  Couldn't  you  understand,  after  all  ?  Are 
you  western  men,  and  yet  unable  to  feel  the  worth 
of  a  western  man  like  Brick  ?  .  .  .  How  he  clothed 
me  and  sheltered  me  when  the  man  who  should  have 
supported  the  child  left  in  his  care  neglected 
her  .  .  .  How  he  taught  me  and  was  always  ten- 
der and  gentle  —  never  a  cross  word  —  a  man  like 
that  .  .  .  And  you  think  he  could  kill!  I  don't 
know  whether  Bill  was  told  his  hiding-place  or  not. 
But  if  7  knew  it,  do  you  think  I'd  tell?  And  if 
Bill  betrayed  him, —  but  Bill  wouldn't  do  it.  Thank 
God,  I've  been  raised  with  real  men,  men  that  know 
how  to  stand  by  each  other  and  be  true  to  the  death. 
You  want  Bill  to  turn  traitor.  I  say,  what  kind  of 
men  are  youf" 

She  turned  to  Wilfred,  blinded  by  hot  tears. 
"  Oh,  say  something  to  them !  "  she  gasped,  clinging 
to  his  arm. 

"  Go  on,"  murmured  Wilfred.  "  I  couldn't  reach 
'em,  and  you  made  a  point,  that  time.  Go  on  — 
don't  give  'em  a  chance  to  think," 


FACING  THE  MOB  319 

"  But  I  can't  —  I've  said  all  I  had  to  say  — " 

"  Don't  stop,  dear,  for  God's  sake  —  the  case  is 
desperate !  You'll  have  to  do  it  —  for  Bill." 

"  And  that  isn't  all,"  Lahoma  called  in  a  broken 
pathetic  voice,  as  she  turned  her  pale  face  upon  the 
curious  crowd.  "  That  isn't  all.  You  know  Brick 
and  Bill  have  been  all  I  had  —  all  in  this  world  .  .  . 
You  know  they  couldn't  have  been  sweeter  to  me  if 
they'd  been  the  nearest  of  kin  —  they  were  more  like 
women  than  men,  somehow,  when  they  spoke  to  me 
and  sat  wi,th  me  in  the  dugout  —  and  I  guess  I 
know  a  little  about  a  mother's  love  because  I've  al- 
ways had  Brick  and  Bill.  But  one  day  somebody 
else  came  to  the  cove  and  —  and  this  somebody 
else,  well  —  he  —  this  somebody  else  wants  to  marry 
me  —  to-day.  This  was  the  end  of  our  journey," 
she  went  on  blindly,  "  and  —  and  it  is  our  wedding- 
day.  I  thought  there  must  be  some  way  to  get 
Brick  to  the  wedding,  but  you  see  how  it  is.  And 
—  and  we'll  have  to  marry  without  him.  But  Bill's 
here  —  in  that  jail  —  because  he  wouldn't  betray  his 
friend.  And  I  couldn't  marry  without  either  Brick 
or  Bill,  could  I?  " 

She  took  her  quivering  hand  from  Wilfred's 
sturdy  arm,  and  moving  to  the  top  of  the  steps,  held 
out  her  trembling  arms  appealingly : 


320  .    LAHOMA 

"Men!  —  Give  me  Bill!" 

The  crowd  was  with  her,  now.  No  doubt  of  that. 
All  fierceness  gone,  tears  here  and  there,  broad  grins 
to  hide  deep  emotion,  open  admiration,  touched 
with  tenderness,  in  the  eyes  that  took  in  her  shy 
flower-like  beauty. 

"  You  shall  have  Bill ! "  shouted  the  spokesman 
of  the  crowd.  And  other  voices  cried,  "  Give  her 
Bill!  Give  her  Bill!" 

"  Bring  him  out ! "  continued  the  spokesman  in 
stentorian  tones.  "  We'll  not  ask  him  a  question. 
Fellows,  clear  a  path  for  Jem." 

A  broad  lane  was  formed  through  the  throng  of 
smiling  men  whom  the  sudden,  unexpected  light  of 
love  had  softened  magically. 

While  Mizzoo  hastened  to  Bill's  cell,  some  one  ex- 
claimed, "  Invite  us,  too.  Make  it  a  town  wed- 
ding!" 

And  another  started  the  shout,  "  Hurrah  for  La- 
homa!" 

Lahoma,  who  had  taken  refuge  behind  Wilfred's 
protection,  wept  and  laughed  in  a  rosy  glow  of  tri- 
umphant joy. 

Mizzoo  presently  reappeared,  leaving  the  door 
wide  open.  He  walked  to  the  stairs,  the  wrinkles 
at  the  corners  of  his  eyes  deep-cut  with  appreciation 


FACING  THE  MOB  321 

of  the  situation.  "  Fellows,"  he  called,  "  he  says 
you  carried  him  in  there,  and  dinged  if  you  won't 
have  to  carry  him  out,  for  not  a  step  will  he  take!  " 

At  this  unexpected  development,  a  burst  of 
laughter  swelled  into  a  roar.  After  that  mighty 
merriment,  Bill  was  as  safe  as  a  babe.  Twenty 
volunteers  pressed  forward  to  carry  the  wedding- 
guest  from  his  cell.  And  when  the  old  man  slowly 
but  proudly  followed  Wilfred  and  Lahoma  to  the 
hotel  where  certain  preparations  were  to  be  made  — 
particularly  as  touching  Bill's  personal  appearance 
• — the  town  of  Mangum  began  gathering  at  the 
newly-erected  church  whither  they  had  been  invited. 

When  the  four  friends  —  for  Mizzoo  joined  them 
«•—  drove  up  to  the  church  door  in  the  only  carriage 
available,  Bill  descended  stiffly,  his  eyes  gleaming 
fiercely  from  under  snowy  locks,  as  if  daring  any 
one  to  ask  him  a  question  about  Brick.  But  no- 
body did. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

MINE  ENEMY 

THE  general  suspicion  that  Bill  Atkins  knew 
more  about  Brick  Willock  than  he  had  re- 
vealed, was  not  without  foundation;  though  the 
extent  of  his  knowledge  was  more  limited  than  the 
town  supposed.  Bill  had  carried  to  his  friend  — 
hidden  in  the  crevice  in  the  mountain-top  —  the 
news  of  Red  Kimball's  death;  since  then,  they  had 
not  seen  each  other. 

Skulking  along  wooded  gullies  by  day,  creeping 
down  into  the  cove  at  night,  .Willock  had  uncon- 
sciously reverted  to  the  habits  of  thought  and  action 
belonging  to  the  time  of  his  outlawry.  He  was 
again,  in  spirit,  a  highwayman,  though  his  hostility 
was  directed  only  against  those  seeking  to  bring 
him  to  justice.  The  softening  influence  of  the  years 
spent  with  Lahoma  was  no  longer  apparent  in  his 
shifting  bloodshot  eyes,  his  crouching  shoulders, 
his  furtive  hand  ever  ready  to  snatch  the  weapon 
from  concealment.  This  sinister  aspect  of  wildness, 

intensified  by  straggling  whiskers  and  uncombed 

322 


MINE  ENEMY  323 

locks,  gave  to  his  giant  form  a  kinship  to  the  huge 
grotesquely  shaped  rocks  among  which  he  had  made 
his  den. 

He  heard  of  Red  Kimball's  death  with  bitter  dis- 
appointment. He  had  hoped  to  encounter  his  for- 
mer chief,  to  grapple  with  him,  to  hurl  him,  per- 
haps, from  the  precipice  overlooking  Bill's  former 
home.  If  in  his  fall,  Kimball,  with  arms  wound 
about  his  waist,  had  dragged  him  down  to  the  same 
death,  what  matter?  Though  his  enemy  was  now 
no  more,  the  sheriff  held  the  warrant  for  his  arrest 

—  as  if  the  dead  man  could  still  strike  a  mortal 
blow.     The  sheriff  might  be  overcome  —  he  was  but 
a  man.     That  piece  of  paper  calling  for  his  arrest 

—  an  arrest  that  would  mean,  at  best,  years  in  the 
penitentiary  —  had   behind   it   the  whole   state   of 
Texas. 

To  Willock's  feverish  imagination,  the  warrant 
became  personified;  a  mysterious  force,  not  to  be 
destroyed  by  material  means ;  it  was  not  only  paper, 
but  spirit.  And  it  had  come  between  him  and  La- 
homa,  it  had  shut  him  off  from  the  possibility  of  a 
peaceful  old  age.  The  cove  was  no  longer  home 
but  a  hiding-place. 

He  did  not  question  the  justice  of  this  sequel  to 
his  earlier  life.  No  doubt  deeds  of  long  ago,  never 


324  LAHOMA 

punished,  demanded  a  sacrifice.  He  hated  the 
agents  of  this  justice  not  so  much  because  they 
threatened  his  liberty,  his  life,  as  because  they 
stepped  in  between  himself  and  Lahoma.  Always  a 
man  of  expedients,  he  now  sought  some  way  of 
frustrating  justice,  and  naturally  his  plans  took  the 
color  of  violence.  Denied  the  savage  joy  of  killing 
Red  Kimball  —  and  he  would  have  killed  him  with 
as  little  compunction  as  if  he  had  been  a  wolf  — 
his  thoughts  turned  toward  Gledware. 

Gledware  was  the  only  witness  of  the  deed  for 
which  the  warrant  demanded  his  arrest.  Willock 
wished  many  of  his  other  deeds  had  been  prompted 
by  impulses  as  generous  as  those  which  had  led  to 
Kansas  Kimball's  death.  Perhaps  it  was  the  irony 
of  justice  that  he  should  be  threatened  by  the  one 
act  of  bloodshed  which  had  saved  Lahoma's  life. 
If  he  must  be  hanged  or  imprisoned  because  he  had 
not,  like  the  rest  of  the  band,  given  himself  up  for 
official  pardon,  it  was  as  well  to  suffer  from  one 
deed  as  from  another.  But  it  would  be  better  still, 
as  in  the  past,  to  escape  all  consequences.  With- 
out Gledware,  they  could  prove  nothing. 

Would  Gledware  testify,  now  that  Red  Kimball, 
who  had  bought  his  testimony  with  the  death  of  the 
Indian,  no  longer  lived  to  exact  payment  ?  Willock 


MINE  ENEMY  325 

felt  sure  he  would.  In  the  first  place,  Gledware 
had  placed  himself  on  record  as  a  witness,  hence 
could  hardly  retreat;  in  the  second  place,  he  would 
doubtless  be  anxious  to  rid  himself  of  the  danger 
of  ever  meeting  Willock,  whom  his  conscience  must 
have  caused  him  to  hate  with  the  hatred  of  the  man 
who  wrongs  his  benefactor. 

Willock  transferred  all  his  rage  against  the  dead 
enemy  to  the  living.  He  reminded  himself  how 
Gledware  had  caused  the  death  of  Red  Feather,  not 
in  the  heat  of  fury  or  in  blind  terror,  but  in  cold- 
blooded bargaining.  He  meditated  on  Gledware's 
attitude  toward  Lahoma;  he  thought  nothing  good 
of  him,  he  magnified  the  evil.  That  scene  at  the 
grave  of  his  wife  —  and  Red  Feather's  account  of 
how  he  had  dug  up  the  body  for  a  mere  pin  of  pearl 
and  onyx  .  .  .  Ought  such  a  creature  to  live  to 
condemn  him,  to  bring  sorrow  on  the  stepdaughter 
he  had  basely  refused  to  acknowledge? 

To  wait  for  the  coming  of  the  witness  would  be 
to  lose  an  opportunity  that  might  never  recur.  Wil- 
lock would  go  to  him.  In  doing  so,  he  would  not 
only  take  Gledware  by  surprise,  but  would  leave  the 
only  neighborhood  in  which  search  would  be  made 
for  himself.  Thus  it  came  about  that  while  the 
environs  of  the  cove  were  being  minutely  examined, 


326  LAHOMA 

Brick,  riding  his  fastest  pony,  was  on  the  way  to 
Kansas  City. 

He  reached  Kansas  City  without  unusual  incident, 
where  he  was  accepted  naturally,  as  a  product  of  the 
West.  Had  his  appearance  been  twice  as  uncouth, 
twice  as  wild,  it  would  have  accorded  all  trie  better 
with  western  superstitions  that  prevailed  in  this  city, 
fast  forgetting  that  it  had  been  a  western  outpost. 
At  the  hotel,  whose  situation  he  knew  from  La- 
homa's  letters,  he  learned  that  Gledware  was  neither 
there,  nor  at  his  home  in  the  country.  The  coun- 
try-house was  closed  up  and,  in  fact,  there  was  a 
rumor  that  it  was  sold,  or  was  about  to  be  sold. 
One  of  the  porters  happened  to  know  that  Gledware 
had  gone  for  a  week's  diversion  down  in  the  Ozarks. 
There  were  a  lake,  a  club-house,  a  dancing-hall,  as 
yet  unopened.  The  season  was  too  early  for  the 
usual  crowd  at  Ozark  Lodge,  but  the  warm  wave 
that  nearly  always  came  at  this  time  of  year,  had 
prompted  a  sudden  outing  party  which  might  last 
no  longer  than  the  warm  wave. 

Willock  took  the  first  train  soutK  and  rode  with 
the  car  window  up  —  the  outside  breath  was  the 
breath  of  balmy  summer  though  the  trees  stood 
bleak  and  leafless  against  the  sky.  Two  days  ago, 
snow  had  fallen  —  but  the  birds  did  not  remember 


MINE  ENEMY  327 

it.  Seven  hours  brought  him  to  a  lonely  wagon- 
trail  called  Ozark  Lodge  because  after  winding 
among  hills  several  miles  it  at  last  reached  the  club- 
house of  that  name  overlooking  the  lake.  He  left 
the  train  in  the  dusk  of  evening,  and  walked  briskly 
away,  the  only  moving  figure  in  the  wilderness. 

.  His  pace  did  not  slacken  till  a  gleam  as  of  fallen 
sky  cupped  in  night- fringe  warned  him  that  the 
club-house  must  be  near.  A  turn  of  a  hill  brought 
it  into  view,  the  windows  not  yet  aglow.  .Nearer 
at  hand  was  the  boat-house,  seemingly  deserted. 
But  as  Willock,  now  grown  wary,  crept  forward 
among  the  post-oaks  and  blackjacks,  well  screened 
from  observation  by  chinkapin  masses  of  gray  inter- 
locked network,  he  discovered  two  figures  near  the 
platform  edging  the  lake.  Neither  was  the  one  he 
sought ;  brut  from  their  being  there  —  they  were  Ed- 
gerton  Compton  and  Annabel, —  he  knew  Gledware 
could  not  be  far  away. 

"  No,"  Annabel  was  saying  decisively,  and  yet 
with  an  accent  of  regret,  "  No,  Edgerton,  I  can't." 
"  But  our  last  boat-ride,"  he  urged.  "  Don't  re- 
fuse me  the  last  ride  —  a  ride  to  think  about  all  my 
life.  I'm  going  away  to-morrow  at  noon,  as  I 
promised.  But  early  in  the  morning  — " 

"  I  have  promised  him,"  she  said  with  lingering 


328  LAHOMA 

sadness  in  her  voice.  "  So  I  must  go  with  him. 
He  has  already  engaged  the  boatman.  He'll  be 
here  at  seven,  waiting  for  me.  So  you  see  — " 

"  Annabel,  I  shall  be  here  at  seven,  also !  "  he  ex- 
claimed impetuously. 

"  But  why  ?  I  must  go  witK  him,  Edgerton. 
You  see  that." 

"  Then  I  shall  row  alone." 

"  Why  would  you  add  to  my  unhappiness  ?  "  she 
pleaded. 

"  I  shall  be  here  at  seven,"  he  returned  grimly ; 
"  while  you  and  he  take  your  morning  boat-ride,  I 
shall  row  alone." 

She  turned  from  him  with  a  sigh,  and  he  followed 
her  dejectedly  up  the  path  toward  the  club-house. 

She  had  lost  some  of  the  fresh  beauty  which  she 
had  brought  to  the  cove,  and  her  step  was  no  longer 
elastic;  but  this  Willock  did  not  notice.  He  gave 
little  heed  to  their  tones,  their  gestures,  their  looks 
in  which  love  sought  a  thin  disguise  wherein  it 
might  show  itself  unnamed.  He  had  seized  on  the 
vital  fact  that  in  the  morning,  Annabel  and  Gled- 
ware  would  push  off  from  the  boat-house  steps,  pre- 
sumably alone;  and  it  would  be  early  morning. 
Perhaps  Gledware  would  come  first  to  the  boat- 
house,  there  to  wait  for  Annabel.  In  that  case,  he 


MINE  ENEMY,  329 

would  not  ride  with  Annabel.     The  lake  was  deep 
—  deep  as  Willock's  hate. 

Willock  passed  the  night  in  the  woods,  sometimes 
walking  against  time  among  the  hills,  sometimes 
seated  on  the  ground,  brooding.  The  night  was 
without  breath,  without  coolness.  Occasionally  he 
climbed  a  rounded  elevation  from  which  the  club- 
house was  discernible.  No  lights  twinkled  among 
the  barren  trees.  All  in  that  wilderness  seemed 
asleep  save  himself.  The  myriad  insects  that  sing 
through  the  spring  and  summer  months  had  not  yet 
found  their  voices;  there  was  no  trill  of  frogs,  not 
even  the  hooting  of  an  owl, —  no  sound  but  his  own 
breathing. 

At  break  of  dawn  he  crept  into  the  boat-house 
like  a  shadow,  barefooted,  bareheaded  —  the  club- 
house was  not  yet  awake.  He  looked  about  the 
barnlike  room  for  a  hfding-place.  Walls,  floor,  ceil- 
ing were  bare.  Near  the  door  opening  on  the  lake 
was  a  rustic  bench,  impossible  as  a  refuge.  Only 
in  one  corner,  where  empty  boxes  and  a  disused 
skiff  formed  a  barricade,  could  he  hope  for  conceal- 
ment. He  glided  thither,  and  on  the  floor  between 
the  dusty  wall  of  broad  boards  and  the  jumbled 
partition,  he  found  a  man  stretched  on  his  back. 

At  first,  he  thought  he  had  surprised  a  sleeper, 


LAHOMA 

but  as  the  figure  did  not  move,  he  decided  it  must 
be  a  corpse.  He  would  have  fled  but  for  his  need 
of  this  corner.  He  bent  down  —  the  man  was 
bound  hand  and  foot.  In  the  mo.uth,  a  gag  was 
fastened.  Neck  and  ankles  were  tied  to  spikes  in 
the  wall. 

Willock  swiftly  surveyed  the  lake  and  the  sloping 
hill  leading  down  from  the  club-house.  Nobody  was 
near.  As  he  stared  at  the  landscape,  the  front  door 
of  the  club-house  opened.  He  darted  back  to  the 
corner.  "  Pardner,"  he  said,  "  I  got  to  ask  your 
hospitality  for  a  spell,  and  if  you  move  so  as  to  at- 
tract attention,  I  got  to  fix  you  better.  I  didn't  do 
this  here,  pardner,  but  you  shore  look  like  some  of 
my  handiwork  in  days  past  and  gone.  Til  share 
this  corner  with  you  for  a  while,  and  if  you  don't 
give  me  away  to  them  that's  coming,  I  promise  to  set 
you  free.  That's  fair,  I  guess.  'A  man  ain't  all 
bad/  says  Brick,  '  as  unties  the  knots  that  other 
men  has  tied,'  says  he.  Just  lay  still  and  comforta- 
ble, and  we'll  see  what's  coming." 

Presently  there  were  footsteps  in  the  path,  and  to 
IWillock's  intense  disappointment,  Gledware  and  An- 
nabel came  in  together.  They  were  in  the  midst  of 
a  conversation  and  at  the  first  few  words,  he  found 
it  related  to  Lahoma.  The  boatman  who  had  prom- 


MINE  ENEMY;  331 

ised  to  bring  the  skiff  for  them  at  seven  —  it  de- 
veloped that  Gledware  had  no  intention  of  doing  the 
rowing  —  had  not  yet  come.  They  sat  down  on  the 
rustic  bench,  their  voices  distinctly  audible  in  all 
parts  of  the  small  building. 

"  Her  closest  living  relative,"  Gledware  said,  "  is 
a  great-aunt,  living  in  Boston.  As  soon  as  I  found 
out  who  she  was  —  I'd  always  supposed  her  living 
among  Indians,  and  that  it  would  be  impossible  to 
find  her  —  but  as  soon  as  I  learned  the  truth,  with- 
out saying  anything  to  her,  I  wrote  to  her  great-aunt. 
I've  never  been  in  a  position  to%take  care  of  Lahoma 

—  I  felt  that  I  ought  to  place  her  with  her  own 
family.     I  got  an  answer  —  about  what  you  would 
expect.     They'd  give  her  a  home  —  I  told  them 
what  a  respectable  girl  she  is  —  fairly  creditable 
appearance  —  intelligent     enough  .  .  .     But     they 
couldn't  stand  those  people  she  lives  with  —  crim- 
inals, you  know,  Annabel,  highwaymen  —  murder- 
ers!    Imagine  Brick  Willock  in  a  Boston  drawing- 
room  .  .  .     But  you  couldn't." 

"  No,"  Annabel  agreed.  "  Poor  Lahoma!  And 
I  know  she'd  never  give  him  up." 

"  That's  it  —  she's  immovable.  She'd  insist  on 
taking  him  along.  But  he  belongs  to  another  age 

—  a    different   country.     He   couldn't   understand. 


332  LAHOMA 

He  thinks  when  you've  anything  against  a  man,  the 
proper  move  is  to  kill  'im.     He's  just  like  an  Indian 

—  a  wild  beast     Wouldn't  know  what  we  meant  if 
we  talked  about  civilization.     His  religion  is  the 
knife.     Well  —  you  see ;  if  he  were  out  of  the  way, 
Lahoma  would  have  her  chance." 

"  But  couldn't  he  be  arrested?  " 

"That's  my  only  hope.  If  he  were  hanged,  or 
locked  up  for  a  certain  number  of  years,  Lahoma' d 
go  East.  But  as  long  as  he's  at  large,  she'll  wait 
for  him  to  turn  up.  She'll  stay  right  there  in  the 
cove  till  she  dies  of  old  age,  if  he's  free  to  visit  her 
at  odd  moments.  It's  her  idea  of  fidelity,  and  it's 
true  that  he  did  take  her  in  when  she  needed  some- 
body. There's  a  move  on  foot  now,  to  arrest  him 
for  an  old  crime  —  a  murder.  I  witnessed  the  deed 

—  I'll  testify,  if  called  on.     Lahoma  will  hate  me 
for  that  —  but  it'll  be  the  greatest  favor  I  could 
possibly   do  her.     She  knows   I   mean   to   appear 
against  him,  and  she  thinks  me  a  brute.     But  if  I 
can  convict  Willock,  it'll  place  Lahoma  in  a  family 
of  wealth  and  refinement — " 

He  broke  off  with,  "  Wonder  why  that  old  deaf 
boatman  doesn't  come?"  He  walked  impatiently 
to  the  head  of  the  steps  and  stared  out  over  the  lake. 


MINE  ENEMY  333 

"  Somebody  out  there  now,"  he  exclaime'd.  "  Oh, 
—  it's  Edgerton,  rowing  about !  " 

He  returned  to  the  bench,  but  did  not  sit  'down. 
"  Annabel,"  he  said  abruptly,  "  you  promised  me  to 
name  the  day,  this  morning." 

'''  Yes,"  she  responded  very  faintly. 

"  And  I  am  sure,  dear,"  he  added  in  a  deep 
resonant  voice,  "  that  in  time  you  will  come  to  care 
for  me  as  I  care  for  you  now  —  you,  the  only  woman 
I  have  ever  loved.  .1  understand  about  Edger- 
ton, but  you  see,  you  couldn't  marry  him  —  in  fact, 
he  couldn't  marry  anybody  for  years;  he  has  noth- 
ing .  .  .  And  these  earlier  attachments  that  we 
think  the  biggest  things  in  our  lives  —  well,  they 
just  dwindle,  Annabel,  they  dwindle  as  we  get  the 
true  perspective.  I  know  your  happiness  depends 
upon  me,  and  it  rejoices  me  to  know  it.  I  can  give 
you  all  you  want  —  all  you  can  dream  of  —  and 
I'm  man-of-the-world  enough  to  understand  that 
happiness  depends  just  on  that  —  getting  what  you 
want." 

Annabel  started  up  abruptly.  "  I  think  I  heard 
the  boat  scraping  outside." 

"  Yes,  he's  there.  Come,  dear,  and  before  the 
ride  is  ended  you  must  name  the  day  — " 


334  LAHOMA 

"Don't!"  she  exclaimed  sharply.     "  He — " 

"  He's  as  deaf  as  a  post,  my  dear,"  Gledware 
murmured  gently.  "  That's  why  I  selected  him.  I 
knew  we'd  want  to  talk  —  I  knew  you'd  name  the 
day." 

He  helped  her  down  the  rattling  boards. 

Brick  Willock  rose  softly  and  stole  toward  the 
opening,  his  eyes  filled  with  a  strange  light.  They 

no  longer  glared  with  the  blood-lust  of  a  wild  beast, 

• 

but  showed  gloomy  and  perplexed ;  the  words  spoken 
concerning  himself  had  sunk  deep. 

The  boatman  sat  with  his  back  to  Gledware  and 
Annabel.  He  wore  a  long  dingy  coat  of  light  gray 
and  a  huge  battered  straw  hat,  whose  wide  brim  hid 
his  hair  and  almost  eclipsed  his  face.  Willock, 
careful  not  to  show  himself,  stared  at  the  skiff  as  it 
shot  out  from  the  landing,  his  brow  wrinkled  in 
anxious  thought.  He  felt  strange  and  dizzy,  and  at 
first  fancied  it  was  because  of  the  resolution  that 
had  taken  possession  of  him  —  the  resolution  to  re- 
turn to  Greer  County  and  give  himself  up.  This 
purpose,  as  unreasoning  as  his  plan  to  kill  Gled- 
ware, grew  as  fixed  in  his  mind  as  half  an  hour  be- 
fore his  other  plan  had  been. 

To  go  voluntarily  to  the  sheriff,  unresistingly  to 
hold  out  his  wrists  for  the  handcuffs  —  that  would 


MINE  ENEMY  335 

indeed  mark  a  new  era  in  his  life.  "  A  wild  Indian 
wouldn't  do  that,"  he  mused,  "  nor  a  wild  beast.  I 
guess  I  understand,  after  all.  And  if  that's  the  way 
to  make  Lahoma  happy  .  .  ." 

No  wonder  he  felt  queer;  but  his  light-headed- 
ness  did  not  rise,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  entirely  from 
subjective  storm- threatenings.  There  was  some- 
thing about  that  boatman  —  now,  when  he  tilted  up 
his  head  slightly,  and  the  hat  failed  to  conceal  — 
was  it  possible?  .  . 

"My  God!"  whispered  Willock;  "it's  Red 
Feather!" 

And  Gledware,  with  eyes  only  for  Annabel,  find- 
ing nothing  beyond  her  but  a  long  gray  coat,  a  big 
straw  hat  and  two  rowing  arms  —  did  not  suspect 
the  truth! 

In  a  flash,  Willock  comprehended  all.  The  In- 
dian had  dropped  the  pin  in  Kimball's  path,  and 
Kimball,  finding  it,  had  carried  it  to  Gledware  as  if 
Red  Feather  were  dead.  The  Indian  had  led  his 
braves  against  the  stage-coach  —  Kimball  had  fallen 
under  his  knife.  Yonder  man  in  the  corner,  bound 
and  gagged,  was  doubtless  the  old  deaf  boatman  en- 
gaged by  Gledware.  Red  Feather  had  taken  his 
place  that  he  might  row  Gledware  far  out  on  the 
lake  . 


336  LAHOMA 

But  Annabel  was  in  the  boat.     If  the  Indian  .  .  . 

Far  away  toward  the  east,  Edgerton  Compton 
was  rowing,  not  near  enough  to  intervene  in  case  the 
Indian  attempted  violence,  but  better  able  than  him- 
self to  lend  assistance  if  the  boat  were  overturned. 
Willock  could,  in  truth,  do  nothing,  except  shout  a 
warning,  and  this  he  forebore  lest  it  hasten  the  im- 
pending catastrophe.  He  remained,  therefore,  half- 
hidden,  crouching  at  the  doorway,  his  eyes  glued  to 
the  rapidly  gliding  boat,  with  its  three  figures  clear- 
cut  against  the  first  faint  sun-glow. 


CHAPTER  XXV 


GLED WARES   POSSESSIONS 

RED  FEATHER'S  mind  was  not  constituted 
to  entertain  more  than  one  leading  thought  at 
a  time.  Ever  since  the  desertion  and  death  of  his 
daughter,  revenge  had  been  his  dominant  passion. 
It  was  in  order  to  find  Gledware  that  he  had  haunted 
the  trail  during  the  years  of  Lahoma's  youth,  al- 
ways hoping  to  discover  him  in  the  new  country  — 
gliding  behind  herds  of  cattle,  listening  to  scraps 
of  talks  among  the  cattlemen,  earning  from  Mizzoo 
the  uneasy  designation,  "  the  ghost." 

Thanks  to  the  reading  aloud  of  Lahoma's  let- 
ter, he  had  learned  of  Gledware's  presence  in  the 
city  which  he  had  known  years  before  as  Westport 
Landing.  He  went  thither  unbewildered  by  its 
marvelous  changes,  undistracted  by  its  tumultuous 
flood  of  life  —  for  his  mind  was  full  of  his  mission ; 
he  could  see  only  the  blood  following  the  blade  of 
his  knife,  heard  nothing  but  a  groan,  a  death-rattle. 

Gledware's  presence  in  the  boat  this  morning  had 
been  made  possible  only  by  the  interposition  of 

337 


338  LAHOMA 

Lahoma;  but  for  the  Indian's  deep-seated  affection 
for  her  whom  he  regarded  as  a  child,  the  man  now 
smiling  into  Annabel's  pale  face  would  long  ago 
have  found  his  final  resting-place.  It  was  due  to  the 
Indian's  singleness  of  thought  that  Lahoma's  plan 
had  struck  him  as  good.  Gledware,  stripped  of  all 
his  possessions,  slinking  as  a  beggar  from  door  to 
door,  no  roof,  no  bed,  but  sky  and  earth  —  that  is 
what  Red  Feather  had  meant. 

He  had  believed  Gledware  glad  of  the  respite. 
That  he  should  accept  the  alternative  seemed  reason- 
able. There  was  a  choice  only  between  death  and 
poverty  —  and  Gledware  wished  to  live  so  desper- 
ately-—  so  basely!  The  chief  cared  little  for  life; 
still,  he  would  unhesitatingly  have  preferred  the 
most  meager  existence  to  a  knife  in  his  heart;  how 
much  more,  then,  this  craven  white  man.  But  the 
plan  had  failed  because  Gledware  did  not  believe 
death  was  the  other  alternative.  Never  in  the  re- 
motest way  had  it  occurred  to  the  avenger  that 
Gledware  could  be  spared  should  he  prove  false  to 
his  oath.  Red  Feather  was  less  a  man  with  passions 
than  a  cold  relentless  fate.  This  fate  would  surely 
overcome  the  helpless  wretch,  should  he  cling  to  his 
riches. 

As  Red  Feather  skimmed  the  water  with  long 


GLEDWARE'S  POSSESSIONS         339 

sweeps  of  his  oars,  never  looking  back,  the  voices 
of  his  passengers  came  to  his  ears  without  meaning. 
He  was  thinking  of  the  last  few  days  and  how  this 
morning's  ride  was  their  fitting  sequel.  The  early 
sunbeams  were  full  on  him  as  he  tilted  back  his  head, 
but  they  showed  no  emotion  on  his  face,  hard-set 
and  dully  red  in  the  clear  radiance. 

Crouching  near  the  summer-house  at  Gledware's 
place,  he  had  overheard  Red  Kimball  boast  to  bring 
Gledware  the  pearl  and  onyx  pin.  Then  had  shot 
through  his  darkened  mind  the  suspicion  that  Gled- 
ware meant  to  escape  the  one  condition  on  which 
his  life  was  to  be  spared.  With  simple  cunning  he 
had  left  the  pin  where  the  outlaw  must  find  it;  his 
own  death  would  be  taken  for  granted  —  what 
then? 

What  then?  This  ride  in  the  boat  Gledware 
had  made  his  choice ;  he  had  clung  to  his  possessions 
—  and  now  Death  held  the  oars.  He  was  scarcely 
past  middle  age.  He  might  have  lived  so  long,  he 
who  so  loved  to  live !  But  no,  he  had  chosen  to  be 
rich  —  and  to  die. 

When  Red  Feather  brought  his  mind  back  to  the 
present,  Gledware  was  describing  to  Annabel  a 
ranch  in  California  for  which  he  had  traded  the 
house  near  Independence.  He  would  take  her  far 


340  LAHOMA 

away;  he  would  build  a  house  thus  and  thus  — 
rooms  so;  terraces  here;  marble  pillars  .  .  . 

Annabel  listened  gravely,  silently,  her  face  all  the 
paler  for  the  sunlight  flashing  over  it,  for  the  mimic 
sun  on  the  waves  glancing  up  into  her  pensive  eyes. 
Somehow,  the  sunshine,  the  ripple  of  the  water, 
seemed  to  form  no  part  of  her  life,  belonged  rather, 
to  Edgerton  Compton  rowing  in  solitude  against 
the  sky.  Those  naked  trees,  bare  brown  hills  and 
ledges  of  huge  stones  seemed  her  world-boundaries, 
kin  to  her,  claiming  her —  But  there  was  Cali- 
fornia .  .  .  and  the  splendid  house  to  be  built  .  .  . 

The  Indian  was  listening  now,  but  as  he  heard 
projected  details  glowingly  presented,  no  change 
came  in  his  grim  deep-lined  face.  He  simply  knew 
it  was  not  to  be  —  let  the  fool  plan !  He  found  him- 
self wondering  dully  why  he  no  longer  hated  Gled- 
ware  with  that  vindictive  fury  that  gloats  over  the 
death-grip,  lingers  in  fiendish  leisure  over  the  lifted 
scalp.  He  scarcely  remembered  the  wrong  done 
his  daughter;  it  was  almost  as  if  he  had  banished 
the  cause  of  his  revenge;  as  if  vengeance  itself  had 
become  a  simple  stroke  of  destiny.  Gledware  had 
chosen  his  possession,  and  the  Indian  was  Fate's 
answer. 

"  Beautiful  one/'  he  heard  Gledware  say,  speak- 


GLEDWARE'S  POSSESSIONS         341 

ing  in  an  altered  tone,  "  all  that  is  in  the  future  — 
but  see  what  I  have  brought  you ;  this  is  for  to-day. 
It's  yours,  dear  —  let  me  see  it  around  your  neck 
with  the  sun  full  upon  it  — " 

Red  Feather  turned  his  head,  curiously. 

Gledware  held  outstretched  a  magnificent  diamond 
necklace  which  shot  forth  dazzling  rays  as  it  swung 
from  his  eager  fingers. 

Annabel  uttered  a  smothered  cry  of  delight  as  the 
iridescence  filled  her  eyes.  She  looked  across  the 
water  toward  the  pagoda-shaped  club-house  where 
her  mother  stood,  faintly  defined  as  a  speck  of  white 
against  the  green  wall-shingles  of  the  piazza.  It 
seemed  that  it  needed  this  glance  to  steady  her 
nerves.  Edgerton  was  forgotten.  She  reached  out 
her  hand.  And  then,  perplexed  at  the  necklace  be^ 
ing  suddenly  withdraw,  she  looked  up.  She  caught 
a  glimpse  of  Gledware's  face,  and  her  blood  turned 
cold. 

That  face  was  frozen  in  horror.  At  the  turning 
of  the  boatman's  head,  he  had  instantly  recognized 
under  the  huge-brimmed  hat,  the  face  of  his  enemy 
as  if  brought  back  from  the  grave. 

There  was  a  moment's  tense  silence,  filled  with 
mystery  for  her,  with  indescribable  agony  for  him, 
with  simple  waiting  for  the  Indian.  Annabel  turned 


342  LAHOMA 

to  discover  the  cause  of  Gledware's  terror,  but 
she  saw  no  malice,  no  threat,  in  the  boatman's 
eyes. 

Gledware  ceased  breathing,  then  his  form  quivered 
with  a  sudden  inrush  of  breath  as  of  a  man  emerging 
from  diving.  His  eyes  rolled  in  his  head  as  he 
turned  about  scanning  the  shore,  glaring  at  Edger- 
ton's  distant  boat.  Why  had  he  come  unarmed? 
How  could  he  have  put  faith  in  Red  Kimball's  as- 
surances? He  tortured  his  brain  for  some  gleam  of 
hope. 

"  This  is  all  I  have,"  he  shrieked,  as  if  the  In- 
dian's foot  was  already  upon  his  neck.  "  This  is  all 
I  have."  He  flung  the  necklace  into  the  water. 
"  It  was  a  lie  about  the  California  ranch  —  it's  a 
lie  about  all  my  property  —  I've  got  nothing,  Anna- 
bel !  I  sold  the  last  bit  to  get  you  the  necklace,  but 
I  shouldn't  have  done  that.  Now  it's  gone.  I  have 
nothing ! " 

The  Indian  rose  slowly.  The  oars  slipped  down 
and  floated  away  in  the  flashing  stream  of  the  sun's 
rays. 

Annabel,  realizing  that  the  Indian,  despite  his  im- 
passive countenance,  threatened  some  horrible  ca- 
tastrophe, started  up  with  a  scream.  Edgerton  had 
already  turned  toward  them;  alarmed  at  sound  of 


GLEDWARE'S  POSSESSIONS        343 

Gledware's  terror.  He  bent  to  the  oars,  compre- 
hending only  that  Annabel  was  in  danger. 

"  Edgerton !  "  she  shrieked  blindly.  "  Edgerton ! 
Edgerton !  ^Edgerton !  " 

Gledware  crouched  at  her  feet,  crying  beseech- 
ingly, "  I  swear  I  have  nothing  —  nothing !  I  sold 
everything  *—  gave  it  away  —  left  it  —  nothing  in  all 
the  world !  I'm  willing  to  beg,  to  starve  —  I  don't 
want  to  own  anything  —  I  only  want  to  live  —  to 
live  .  .  .  My  God!  to  live  .  .  ."  * 

Red  Feather  did  not  utter  a  word.  But  with  the 
stealthy  lightness  and  litheness  of  a  panther,  he 
stepped  over  the  seat  and  moved  toward  Gledware. 

Then  Gledware,  pushed  to  the  last  extremity, 
despairing  of  the  interposition  of  some  miraculous 
chance,  was  forced  back  upon  himself.  With  the 
vision  of  an  inherent  coward  he  saw  all  chances 
against  him ;  but  with  the  desperation  of  a  maddened 
soul,  he  threw  himself  upon  the  defensive. 

Red  Feather  had  not  expected  to  see  him  offer 
resistance.  This  show  of  clenched  teeth  and  doubled 
fists  suddenly  enraged  him,  and  the  old  lust  of  ven- 
geance flamed  from  his  eyes.  Hat  and  disguising 
coat  were  cast  aside.  For  a  moment  his  form,  rigid 
and  erect,  gleamed  like  a  statue  of  copper  cut  in 
stern  relentless  lines,  and  the  single  crimson  feather 


344  LAHOMA 

in  his  raven  locks  matched,  in  gold,  the  silver  bright- 
ness of  his  upraised  blade. 

The  next  moment  his  form  shot  forward,  his  arm 
gripped  Gledware  about  the  neck,  despite  furious 
resistence,  and  both  men  fell  into  the  water. 

The  violent  shock  given  to  the  boat  sent  Annabel 
to  her  knees.  Clutching  the  side  she  gazed  with 
horrified  eyes  at  the  water  in  her  wake.  The  men 
had  disappeared,  but  in  the  glowing  white  path  cut 
across  the  lake  by  the  sun,  appeared  a  dull  red 
streak  that  thinned  away  to  faint  purple  and  dim 
pink.  She  watched  the  sinister  discoloration  with 
fascinated  eyes.  What  was  taking  place  beneath  the 
smooth  tide?  Or  was  it  all  over?  Had  Red 
Feather  found  a  rock  to  which  he  could  cling  while 
he  drowned  himself  with  his  victim?  Or  had  their 
bodies  been  caught  in  the  tangled  branches  of  a 
submerged  forest  tree  ?  It  was  one  of  the  mysteries 
of  the  Ozarks  never  to  be  solved. 

She  was  still  kneeling,  still  staring  with  frightened 
eyes,  still  wondering,  when  Edgerton  Compton 
rowed  up  beside  her. 

"  He  said  he  had  nothing,"  she  stammered,  as  he 
helped  her  to  rise.  "  He  said  he  had  nothing  .  .  . 
How  true  it  is!  "  Edgerton  gently  lifted  her  to  his 
skiff,  then  stepped  in  beside  her.  He,  too,  was 


GLEDWARE'S  POSSESSIONS        345 

watching  the  water  for  the  possible  emergence  of  a 
ghastly  face. 

Annabel  began  trembling  as  with  the  ague. 
"  Edgerton !  .  .  .  He  said  it  was  all  a  lie  —  about 
his  property  —  and  so  it  was.  Everything  is  a  lie 
except  —  this  .  .  ." 

She  clung  to  him. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

JUST   A   HABIT 

WHEN  Bill  Atkins  with  an  air  of  impenetrable 
mystery  invited  Wilfred  Compton  to  a  ride 
that  might  keep  him  from  his  bride  several  days, 
the  young  man  guessed  that  Willock  had  been  found. 
Lahoma,  divining  as  much,  urged  Wilfred  to  hasten, 
assured  him  that  she  enjoyed  the  publicity  and  stir- 
ring life  of  the  Mangum  hotel  and  expressed  confi- 
dence that  should  she  need  a  friend,  Mizzoo  would 
help  her  through  any  difficulty.  So  Wilfred  rode 
away  with  Bill,  and  Willock  was  not  mentioned. 

Bill  was  evidently  in  deep  trouble,  and  when  Wil- 
fred and  he  had  let  themselves  down  into  the  stone 
corridor  whose  only  entrance  was  a  crevice  in  the 
mountain-top,  he  understood  the  old  trapper's  deep 
despondency  —  Brick  Willock  was  there ;  and  Brick 
declared  his  intention  of  giving  himself  up.  He  an- 
nounced his  purpose  before  greetings  had  subsided. 
Bill  called  him  an  old  fool,  used  unpruned  language, 

scolded,  rather  than  argued.     Wilfred,  on  the  other 

346 


JUST  A  HABIT  347 

hand,  delayed  events  by  requesting  full  particulars 
of  the  last  few  weeks. 

"  He's  told  me  all  he's  been  up  to,"  Bill  objected; 
"  there's  no  call  to  travel  over  that  ground  again. 
What  I  brought  you  here  for,  Wilfred,  is  to  show 
him  how  foolish  he'd  be  to  let  himself  be  taken  when 
he's  free  as  the  wind." 

"  I  tells  my  tale,"  declared  Brick,  "  and  them  as 
has  heard  it  once  can  take  it  or  leave  it."  He  was 
discursive,  circumstantial,  and  it  was  a  long  time 
before  he  led  them  in  fancy  to  the  door  of  the  boat- 
house  and  showed  them  Red  Feather  and  Gledware 
disappearing  forever  beneath  the  surface  of  the  lake. 

"  There  I  waited,"  he  said,  "  expecting  first  one 
head,  then  the  other  to  come  to  light,  but  nothing 
happened.  Seemed  like  I  couldn't  move.  But  Ed- 
gerton,  he  began  rowing  towards  me  with  Annabel, 
she  happy  despite  herself,  and  when  I  see  it  wouldn't 
do  to  tarry  no  longer,  I  cuts  loose  the  old  deaf  boat- 
man and  unstops  his  mouth.  Well,  sir,  he  lets  out 
a  yell  that  would  a-done  credit  to  a  bobcat  fighting 
in  the  traps.  I  had  to  run  for  it  —  f ellowrs  from  the 
club-house  took  after  me  thinking  I'd  been  murder- 
ing somebody  —  I  skinned  them  Ozark  hills  and  I 
skinned  myself.  But  Brick,  he  says,  'When  you 
turns  loose  a  bobcat,  expect  scratches,'  says  he." 


348  LAHOMA 

"  Don't  tell  about  how  you  hid  in  the  hills  wait- 
ing for  a  night  train/*  Bill  pleaded. 

"  I  tells  it  all;  "  Brick  was  inflexible.  "  You  are 
here,  I'm  here,  and  it's  a  safe  place.  We  may  never 
be  so  put  again." 

"  A  safe  place!  "  Bill  snarled.  "  Yes,  it  is  a  safe 
place.  But  you've  lost  your  nerve.  Was  a  time, 
when  you'd  have  stood  out  creation  in  a  hole  like 
this.  But  you've  turned  to  salt,  you  have  a  regular 
Bible  character  —  giving  up  to  the  law,  letting  them 
clap  you  in  jail,  getting  yourself  hanged,  very 
likely!  And  all  because  you've  lost  your  nerve. 
See  here,  Brick,  stand  'em  out!  I'll  steady  you 
through  thick  and  thin.  I'll  bring  you  grub  and 
water." 

"  You  couldn't  do  nothing,"  Brick  returned  con- 
temptuously, "  you're  too  old.  As  for  that,  I  ain't 
come  to  the  pass  of  needing  being  waited  on,  I 
guess.  It  ain't  dangers  that  subdues  me,  it's  prin- 
ciples. Look  here ! " 

He  walked  to  the  cross-bar  that  was  set  in  the 
walls  to  guard  the  floor  from  the  unknown  abyss. 
"  I  found  out  they  was  a  hole  in  the  rock  just  about 
five  feet  under  the  floor.  I  can  take  this  rope  and  tie 
one  end  to  the  post  and  let  myself  down  to  that 
little  room  where  there's  grub  enough  to  last  a  long 


JUST  A  HABIT  349 

siege,  where  there's  bedding  and  common  luxuries, 
as  tobacco  and  the  like.  I  ain't  been  smoked  out, 
into  the  open,  I  goes  free  and  disposed  and  my 
hands  held  up  according." 

When  he  had  finished  the  last  morsel  of  his  story 
and  had  warmed  some  of  it  over  for  another  taste, 
there  came  an  ominous  silence,  broken  at  last  by  the 
querulous  voice  of  Bill,  arguing  against  surrender. 

Willock  waited  in  patience  till  his  friend  had  ex- 
hausted himself.  "  I  ain't  saying  nothing,"  he  ex- 
plained to  Wilfred,  "  because  he  ain't  pervious  to 
reason,  and  it  does  him  good  to  get  that  out  of  his 
system-." 

"  Let  me  make  a  suggestion,"  exclaimed  Wilfred 
suddenly. 

Willock  looked  at  him  suspiciously.  "  If  it  ain't 
counter  to  my  plans  - 

"  It  isn't.  It's  this :  Suppose  we  drop  the  subject 
till  to-morrow  —  it  won't  hurt  any  of  us  to  sleep 
on  it,  and  I  know  I'd  enjoy  another  night  with  you, 
as  in  the  old  days." 

"  I'm  willing  to  sleep  on  it,  out  of  friendship," 
Willock  conceded  unwillingly,  "though  I'd  rest 
easier  on  a  bed  in  the  jail.  There  never  was  no  bird 
more  crazy  to  get  into  a  cage  than  I  am  to  be  shut 
up.  But  as  to  the  old  days,  they  ain't  none  left. 


3so  LAHOMA 

Them  deputies  is  in  the  dugout,  they're  in  the  cabin 
I  built  for  Lahoma,  they  think  they  owns  our  cove. 
Well,  they's  no  place  left  for  me;  life  wouldn't  be 
nothing,  crouching  and  slinking  up  here  in  the  rocks. 
Life  wouldn't  be  nothing  to  me  without  Lahoma. 
I'd  have  a  pretty  chance  for  happiness,  now  wouldn't 
I,  sitting  up  somewheres  with  Bill  Atkins!  I  ain't 
saying  I  mightn't  get  out  of  this  country  and  find 
a  safe  spot  where  I  could  live  free  and  disposed 
with  an  old  renegade  like  him  that  nobody  ain't  after 
and  ain't  a-caring  whether  he's  above  ground  or  in 
kingdom  come.  But  I  couldn't  be  with  Lahoma; 
I'm  under  ban." 

"If  you  were  on  my  farm  near  Oklahoma  City," 
Wilfred  suggested,  "  and  Lahoma  and  I  lived  in  the 
city,  you  could  often  see  her.  Up  there,  nobody'd 
molest  you,  nobody'd  know  you.  That's  what  I've 
been  planning.  You  could  look  after  the  farm  and 
Bill  could  go  back  and  forth.  As  soon  as  the  news 
comes  that  Red  Feather  killed  Gledware,  it'll  be 
taken  for  granted  that  he  killed  Red  Kimball  and  at- 
tacked the  stage.  You'll  be  cleared  of  all  that  and 
nobody  will  want  you  arrested." 

Willock  rose.  "  Are  we  going  to  sleep  on  this,  or 
shall  I  answer  you  now?"  he  demanded  fixedly. 

Wilfred  hastily  asked  for  time. 


JUST  A  HABIT  351 

They  passed  the  night  in  the  mountain-top,  but 
Willock  had  spoken  truly;  there  were  no  old  days. 
The  one  subject  forbidden  was  the  only  subject  in 
their  minds.  All  attempts  at  reminiscence,  at  ir- 
relevant anecdotes,  were  mere  pretense.  The  fact 
that  Wilfred  and  Lahoma  were  now  married  seemed 
to  banish  events  of  a  month  ago  as  if  they  were 
years  and  years  in  the  past. 

They  partook  of  breakfast  in  the  gray  dawn  of 
the  new  day,  eating  by  lantern-light.  And  when 
the  light  had  been  extinguished,  Willock,  like  a  wild 
animal  brought  to  bay,  squared  his  shoulders  against 
the  wall,  and  said :  "  We've  slept  on  it.  Say  all  you 
got  to  say.  Don't  leave  out  nothing  because  you 
might  be  sorry,  afterwards.  Speak  together,  or  one 
at  a  time,  it's  all  the  same  to  me.  And  when  you're 
done,  and  say  you're  done,  I'll  do  my  talking,  ac- 
cording." 

And  when  they  were  done,  and  said  tHey  were 
done,  he  straightened  himself  and  said: 

"  When  Red  Kimball's  band  give  themselves  to 
the  law  that  done  nothing  to  them,  there  might  of 
been  a  man,  one  of  'em,  that  never  come  in  out  of 
the  rain.  I  ain't  saying  I  am  that  man,  for  I  stands 
by  the  records  and  the  proofs  and  the  showings  of 
man  and  man,  technical  and  arbitrary.  But  in  due 


352  LAHOMA 

time,  the  governor  of  Texas  he  says  that  that  man 
—  whoever  he  may  be  —  was  no  longer  to  be  ex- 
cused on  the  grounds  that  he  done  his  operating  in 
No-Man's  Land  and  his  residing  in  the  state  of 
Texas.  And  he  said  that  there  man  would  be  held 
responsible  for  all  the  deeds  done  by  Red  Kimball's 
band.  That  word  has  been  handed  down.  Now 
whether  I'm  that  man,  or  just  thought  to  be  that  man, 
makes  little  difference.  I'm  a  fugitive  on  the  face, 
of  the  earth  without  an  ark  of  safety  —  referring 
to  my  cove.  That's  me. 

"  Now  look  at  Lahoma.  She  has  folks,  not  mean- 
ing you,  Wilfred,  but  Boston  kin  that  stands  high. 
A  woman  ain't  nothing  without  family,  out  in  the 
world.  You're  going  to  be  a  great  man  some  day, 
if  I  don't  miss  my  guess,  a  great  man  in  Oklahoma 
government  and  laws.  Lahoma's  going  to  be  proud 
of  you.  You'll  take  a  hand  in  politics,  you'll  be 
elected  tq  something  high.  If  I  lived  near  at  hand, 
I'd  all-time  be  hiding,  and  having  her  a-conniving 
at  something  that  would  hurt  your  reputation  if 
found  out,  and  that  would  kill  me  because  I  couldn't 
breathe  under  such  a,  load.  And  if  away  from  her, 
well  —  I'm  too  old,  now,  to  live  without  Lahoma. 
She's  —  she's  just  a  habit  of  mine. 

"  So  you  puts  me  in  jail.     They  does  what  they 


JUST  A  HABIT  353 

likes  with  me,  hangs  me  or  gives  me  time,  but  the 
point  as  I  see  it  is  this:  I'll  be  disposed  of,  I'll  be 
given  a  rank,  you  may  say,  and  classified.  Lahoma 
won't  be  hampered.  She's  young;  young  people 
takes  things  hard  but  they  don't  take  'em  long.  In 
due  time,  them  Boston  kinfolks  will  be  inviting  her 
and  will  be  visiting  her,  and  you'll  be  in  congress, 
like  enough  —  if  you  wasn't  a  western  man,  I'd  say 
you  might  be  president.  And  everybody  will  honor 
you  and  feast  you  —  and  as  to  Brick  Willock,  he'll 
simply  be  forgot. 

"  Which  is  eminent  and  proper,  Wilfred.  I  be- 
longs to  the  past  —  I'm  a  kind  of  wild  creaturfe 
such  as  has  to  die  out  when  civilization  rolls  high ; 
and  she's  rolling  high  in  these  parts,  and  it's  for  me 
and  Bill  to  join  the  Indians  and  buffaloes,  and  fade 
away.  Trappers  is  out  of  date;  so  is  highwaymen, 
I  judge. 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  makes  myself  clear  or  well 
put,  but  if  you'll  catch  up  the  ponies  I  guess  your 
sheriff  can  handle  my  meaning." 

Without  much  difficulty,  Wilfred  effected  an- 
other compromise.  They  waited  till  night  before 
leaving  the  retreat.  The  reason  accepted  for  this 
delay  was  that  in  the  daytime  the  deputies  would 
stop  them  and  Willock  wanted  to  give  himself  up 


354  LAHOMA 

to  the  chief  in  command.  When  it  was  dark  they 
slipped  down  the  gully  whose  matted  trees,  though 
stripped  of  leaves,  offered  additional  shelter.  In 
the  cove,  they  saw  the  light  streaming  from  the 
window  of  the  dugout  —  that  famous  window  that 
had  given  Lahoma  her  first  outlook  upon  learning. 
As  the  beams  caught  his  eye,  a  sigh  heaved  the 
great  bulk  of  the  former  master  of  the  cove,  but 
he  said  nothing. 

In  oppressive  silence  they  skirted  Turtle  Hill 
and  emerged  from  the  horseshoe  bend,  finding  in 
a  sheltered  nook  the  three  ponies  that  Wilfred  had 
provided  at  nightfall.  He  had  hoped  to  the  last 
that  Willock  could  be  prevailed  on  to  alter  his 
decision,  and  even  while  riding  away  toward  Man- 
gum,  he  argued  and  coaxed.  But  it  was  in  vain, 
and  as  they  clattered  up  to  the  hotel  veranda,  Wil- 
lock was.  searching  the  crowd  for  a  glimpse  of  the 
sheriff. 

The  street  was  unusually  full  for  that  time  of 
night;  some  topic  of  engrossing  interest  seemed 
to  engage  all  minds  until  Willock's  figure  was  recog- 
nized ;  then,  indeed,  he  held  the  center  of  attention. 
Men  gathered  eagerly,  curiously,  but  without  the 
hostility  they  would  have  displayed  had  not  a  mes- 
sage regarding  Red  Feather  reached  the  town. 


JUST  A  HABIT  355 

Brick  was  still  an  outlaw,  to  be  sure,  but  whatever 
crimes  he  had  committed  were  unknown,  hence  un- 
able to  react  on  the  imagination.  The  surviving 
friend  of  Red  Kimball,  giving  up  his  efforts  against 
Willock  on  the  liberation  of  Bill,  had  left  the  coun- 
try, harmless  without  his  leader. 

Conversation  which  had  been  loud  and  excited, 
eager  calls  from  street  corners  that  had  punctuated 
the  many-tongued  argument  and  exposition,  dimmed 
to  silence.  There  was  a  forward  movement  of 
the  men,  not  a  rush  but  a  vibratory  swell  of  the 
human  tide,  pushing  toward  the  steps  of  the 
hotel.  The  two  riderless  horses  danced  sidewise  — 
Brick  Willock  had  jumped  upon  the  unpainted  floor 
of  the  veranda,  and  Wilfred  had  sprung  lightly  to 
his  side. 

"  I'll  just  keep  on  my  horse,"  muttered  Bill, 
resting  one  leg  stiffly  over  the  pommel.  "  I  can't 
get  up  as  I  used  to,  and  I  expect  to  stay  with  ye, 
Brick,  to  the  jail  door." 

Willock  did  not  turn  his  shaggy  head  to  answer. 
He  had  seen  the  sheriff  at  the  other  end  of  the 
piazza,  and  he  made  straight  for  him,  not  even  con- 
descending to  a  grin  when  the  other,  mistaking  his 
intentions,  whipped  out  his  revolver. 

"  Put  it  up,  pard,"  Brick  said  gruffly.     "  When 


356  LAHOMA 

you  come  to  me  in  the  cove,  a  few  years  ago,  I  give 
you  a  warm  welcome,  but  now  I  ain't  a-coming  to 
you,  I'm  a-coming  to  the  Law.  Where's  that  there 
warrant  ?  " 

The  crowd  that  had  been  listening  to  the  sheriff's 
discourse  before  the  arrival  of  the  highwayman, 
scattered  at  sight  of  the  drawn  weapon  —  all  ex- 
cept Lahoma. 

"  Brick!  "  she  cried,  "  oh,  Brick,  Brick!  " 

There  was  something  in  her  voice  he  could  not 
understand,  but  he  dared  not  turn  to  examine  her 
face;  he  could  not  trust  himself  if  he  once  looked 
at  her. 

"  Get  out  your  warrant,"  he  cried  savagely,  "  and 
get  it  out  quick  if  you  want  me  I "  His  great  breast 
heaved  with  the  conflict  of  powerful  emotions. 

"  I'm  sure  sorry  to  see  you,  old  man,"  Mizzoo  de- 
clared. "We  know  Red  Feather  done  what  we 
was  charging  up  against  you.  But  I  guess  there's 
no  other  course  open  to  me.  As  my  aunt  used  to 
say  (Miss  Sue  of  Missouri)  'I  got  a  duty  —  do  it, 
I  must.' '  He  thrust  his  hairy  hand  into  his  bosom 
and  drew  forth  the  fateful  paper. 

Lahoma  laughed.  "  Read  it,  Mizzoo,  read  it 
aloud  —  read  all  of  it!  "  she  cried  gleefully. 

Wilfred  looked  at  her,  bewildered.     The  crowd 


JUST  A  HABIT  357 

stared  also,  knowing  her  love  for  Brick,  therefore 
dazed  at  the  sound  of  mirthful  music.  Brick 
turned  his  head  at  last;  he  looked,  also,  not  re- 
proachfully but  with  a  question  in  his  hard  stern 
eyes. 

Mizzoo  turned  red.  "  Well,  yes,  I'll  read  it,"  he 
said,  defiantly.  "Sure!  I  guess  as  sheriff  of 
Greer  County  I'll  make  shift  to  get  through  with 
it  alive." 

He  began  to  read,  slowly,  doggedly ;  Brick,  with- 
out movement  save  for  that  heaving  of  his  bosom, 
facing  him  with  a  mingling  on  his  face  of  supreme 
defiance  for  the  reader  and  superstitious  awe  for 
the  legal  instrument. 

"  That's  all,"  Mizzoo  at  last  announced.  "  You'll 
have  to  come  with  me,  Willock." 

"  Hold  on! "  came  voices  from  the  crowd.  Dur- 
ing1 the  reading,  they  had  been  watching  Lahoma, 
and  her  expression  promised  more  than  fruitless 
laughter.  "  Hold  on,  Mizzoo,  Lahoma's  got  some- 
thing up  her  sleeve ! " 

Lahoma  spoke  clearly,  that  her  voice  might  carry 
to  the  confines  of  the  crowd:  "Mizzoo,  I  think 
you  read  in  that  warrant,  '  county  of  Greer,  state  of 
Texas'?  Didn't  you?" 

"  That's  what  I  done.     Here's  the  words." 


358  LAHOMA 

"But,  you  see,"  returned  Lahoma,  "that  war- 
rant's no  good ! " 

Mizzoo  stared  at  her  a  moment,  then  exclaimed 
violently,  "  By  — "  Propriety  forbade  the  comple- 
tion of  his  phrase. 

The  crowd  instantly  caught  her  meaning;  a  shout 
rose,  shrill,  tumultuous,  broken  with  laughter.  She 
had  reminded  them  of  the  subject  which  a  short  time 
ago  had  engaged  all  minds. 

"  It's  no  good,"  cried  Lahoma  triumphantly. 
She  took  it  from  Mizzoo's  lax  fingers  and  deliber- 
ately tore  it  from  top  to  bottom. 

"  I  guess  I'm  a-getting  old,  sure  enough,"  said 
Bill.  "  This  is  beyond  me." 

Wilfred  looked  at  Lahoma  questioningly.  Brick, 
stupified  by  violence  done  that  sacred  instrument  of 
civilization,  stood  rooted  to  the  spot. 

Mizzoo  was  grinning  now.  "  You  see,"  he  ex- 
plained, "  word  come  to-day  that  the  Supreme  Court 
has  at  last  turned  in  its  decision.  Prairie  Dog  Fork 
is  now  Red  River,  and  '  Red  River '  is  only  the 
North  Fork  of  Red  River  —  and  that  means  that 
Greer  County  don't  belong  to  Texas,  and  never 
did  belong  to  her,  but  is  a  part  of  Oklahoma." 

"  And  you'll  never  have  an  Oklahoma  writ  served 
on  you,"  cried  Lahoma,  "  not  while  I'm  living ! 


JUST  A  HABIT  359 

And  you'll  go  with  us  to  our  farm  and  live  with 
us,  you  and  Bill  and  .  .  ." 

Lahoma  had  expected  to  be  very  calm  and  logi- 
cal, for  she  knew  she  had  all  the  advantage  on  her 
side.  But  when  she  saw  the  change  in  Brick's  eyes, 
she  forgot  her  rights;  she  forgot  all  that  watching 
crowd ;  she  forgot  even  Wilfred  —  and  with  a  spring 
she  was  in  Brick's  arms,  sobbing  for  joy. 

He  tried  to  say  something  about  her  Boston  kin, 
but  he  could  not  express  the  thought  coherently,  for 
giant  as  he  was,  he  was  sobbing,  too. 

"If  there's  ever  a  meeting,"  she  said,  between 
tears  and  laughter,  "the  East  will  have  to  come  to 
the  West!" 

"  Those  Boston  folks/'  cried  Bill,  with  a  sudden 
upheaval  of  unwonted  humor,  "  can  simply  go  to  — 
beans!  I'm  a-getting  down,"  he  added,  cautiously 
lowering  himself  from  his  pony;  "I  guess  I'm  in 
this,  too." 

"  You're  in  it,"  growled  Brick,  "  but  you're  on 
the  outskirts.  Don't  come  no  nearer."  He  stroked 
the  head  that  rested  on  his  breast,  his  great  hand 
moving  with  exceeding  gentleness.  He  gazed  over 
her  brown  glory,  at  the  sympathetic  crowd. 

"Fellows,"  he  cried,  "just  look  what  I've 
raised!" 


360  LAHOMA 

"  Boys,"  exclaimed  Mizzoo,  "  what  do  you  say  ? 
Let's  give  three  cheers  for  Lahoma." 

Wilfred's  voice  cut  across  the  last  word,  proud 
and  happy :  "  MaKe  it  Lahoma  of  Oklahoma !  " 


ENS 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


